Do I know You?
by maleV
Summary: Piers finds Chris in the bar in Edonia, and is forced to help him recall the past as the present slowly becomes a nightmare. ChrisXPiers ...There's a reason Chris never wanted to go to China but who will pay the ultimate price?
1. Toxicity

"Where the hell are you takin' me Nivans?"

"Somewhere to sleep it off captain."

He looked up from those soft pouted lip and the way they curled at the corners in a way perfectly made for sucking dick, to Piers eyes briefly, noting the way his curved eyebrow cocked at him curiously for the slurred strand of unintelligible words. He was glad he'd already drank a substantial amount, enough that even though Piers was dragging him out of this place with all the force the kid could muster and it still didn't bother him in the least. Chris Redfield would have decked a guy for all this. Claiming they were partners, about the BSAA, about everything, but he couldn't push back the way those eyes had pierced him back in he bar. That all too suggestive way that the soldier was use to getting from women, not pretty boys like Piers. He was relishing in those reassuring, strong calloused sniper hands manipulated him and Chris couldn't help but wonder how many times they'd done this before. Piers knew all the right ways to move the older man, and after tonight he needed the distraction. Even if they knew each other and this was some master plan to get him back into fighting bio-whatevers, Chris wasn't sure that's what he wanted. He was here, drowning his sorrows for a reason, and that kid's mouth looked just right for it.

Oh they knew each other. Obviously. It was all in the way the kid kept calling him captain. The way it was rolling off his tongue like a sin, or the subtle glances his way that was telling Chris they were probably much more than partners. He could see it too. Being intimate with this kid wouldn't be a problem. Sure he was a kid, but hell if he wasn't a fine piece of ass. He didn't remember ever being with a guy before, so what, maybe it was new, but there was no way this wasn't right. The lips and the way his tongue would dart out to wet them every time they'd get chapped; the tone, the way he threw around his name like he was doing now. Hell, if Chris wasn't banging him before now it was a miracle. He was built perfectly for it. He was slimmer at the waist and had an ass that wouldn't quit, even for a guy. He was smaller than Chris, but everyone was. Chris' bicep was bigger than most people's heads, but this kid wasn't small by any means, and looked like he could handle himself easily enough. Reaching around him for support, they tripped up on a lip of concrete sticking out that sent them stumbling down the alleyway and he gave the kid a sloppy grin, before he shamelessly copped a feel. He couldn't help but love the way it made Piers jump, but he still managed to catch his balance and resisted the futile attempt to remove Chris' hand from his ass. Fuck if that ignoble way he eyed him wasn't turning him on. There was no way they hadn't done this before.

And then he was talking again, and Chris zoned out as they meandered together like the worst three-legged race on the planet. It was more like six-legged right, and Chris had to be winning. He could already feel the way this kid was affecting him and there would definitely be no trouble there. His own feet were cumbersome under him, causing him to amble and it was giving Piers a run for his money to keep upright. Strength and balance were in his favor sure, but Chris was getting caught up on everything they moved passed, fighting back the instinct to hurl up his last 5 shots on the hood of a car parked in the alley. He stopped to lean against the brick wall, red dust brushing off onto his leather coat; slumping halfway over as his head reeled. He put his fingers through his own short charcoal hair trying to focus, tipping his head against the cold of the mortar in an attempt to gather himself and let it soak in.

It took several minutes with his eyes closed before it was enough to make the world stop dancing before his face, but it had managed with the vodka to make a perfect mix for he revelation that this was sweet destiny. Enough that when he felt Piers grab for his shoulder again that Chris beat him to it and jerked himself upright, gripping Piers by his wrist with all dexterity of the captain of the SOU and yanking it up behind his back, forcing the younger soldier straight into the wall beside him, face scrapped on the chipped brick. He was hissing something between his teeth, shoving backward against Chris to absolutely no avail at all. Fuck the kid was strong, but his captain was stronger. Chris let the world do its ballet again after the example of physical prowess and it took a bit to remember how he'd got himself there. Drunk or not, Chris' instincts were tight, better than most people, and Piers had stopped fighting back by the time Chris had recalled what brought him there.

He leaned close to the sniper, brushing his lips against his ear and taking in the sight of him trapped there. His height and muscle mass made it easy to know how often this kid won a battle between the two. Chris outweighed him by a at least a buck, and despite being lithe Piers had that submissive way about him, that read that he took it like a good boy..., particularly the way he popped his hip when he stood there trying to confront him in the bar. It was killing Chris though; like this with his back to him, Chris could smell the sweat and gunpowder on his neck, just beneath the fabric that hid his skin and wanted nothing more than to lick it. Fuck this kid was pretty. Why the hell was he so damn pretty? "Tell me how you like it." His lips pulled into a smirk, leaning forward with his weight pushing Piers ribcage into the wall, darting his tongue over Piers' perfect lips. "You've got a hand soldier, show me."

"Captain..."

"Mmm," Chris hummed when felt his breath on his mouth, finally releasing his grip on Piers sweaty wrist long enough to turn him, keeping his body pinned between his captain and the wall. "I bet you like it rough. Back alley fuck with your pants around your knees. Take orders like a good soldier do you?" He was writhing under Chris, stuck there apart from the minor shift of the hips unintentionally brushed against Chris,' and shoulders that were being ground against the wall. He could see it almost clear as day; Piers braced against the wall with his gloved hands holding him from being slammed against it like Chris was doing now. Reaching his arm around him and pulling away the ammo clips and peeling off the straps and rigging that kept his fatigues in place. Piers was gritting his teeth against the dirt and grime, swearing Chris' name under his hitched breath while his captain took him completely unprepared, pushing back to take every inch of it like he was suppose to. Hell if he didn't know better it was a memory floating behind his eyelids and it was making his hard as fuck. If that was what he was missing, soldier boy could take him home every night. "Get on your knees soldier."

Piers couldn't say anything. Not against Chris. Even when his captain could hardly remember his name. They'd been through so much shit together and now that he'd found him he didn't know what to do. He was at a loss, pinned between a brick wall and his superior. Yeah they'd had sex. It was fast and hard, just like this and his muscles were aching where they remembered his captain and everything they'd done. It burned when he felt the bricks slam up and meet his face, but there was something there that said Chris remembered who he was. What does someone say to their captain when all he can remember is fucking you in an alleyway. He couldn't help that Chris' voice went straight to his groin, or how he rocked his hips against the taller man when he shoved him that way. "Captain..." None of it was registering for him, he couldn't think straight. Just breath and let it pass. He'll remember you eventually, he'll come to his senses.

The warmth of Chris' mouth stank like booze, but the feeling of his tongue darting across his lip made him part them. He couldn't help that every inch of him wanted back the captain he'd had before. Even if it meant having just the part that remembered this and every time before it. He said something, but Piers didn't hear it passed the rush of the blood pounding in his head, eyes darting from the red brick, to the trash beneath his feet, and then Chris. Christ he was kissing him. He couldn't help but let it happen, and part his lips when Chris' tongue demanded access. Piers was fighting back the moans that were muffled by his captain's tongue, fighting the hands that found his hips almost immediately attacking the belt that held his pants in place. Their teeth clashed once and then he was fighting to breath, warring for dominance with Piers' head sore from the way it was being ground against the wall as Chris' hands sought to grab the straining material between them.

Rough calloused fingers manipulated Piers like a doll, yanking open the last part of the buckle that held his belt in place before he was fumbling with them too, shoving them downward and finding the bulge in his boxers, kneading him, while his teeth bit down on Pier's soft pouty bottom lip. Chris worked his own jeans rough and quick, finding the zipper and loops far easier than the sniper's. He couldn't help himself, or how bad he missed the feeling of Chris' hands on his skin. He was a furnace, and Piers was like melting ice, turning into putty in his hands as the older man grasped at his hips. He was the one to break the kiss, saliva clinging to the two and a trail running down the corner of the protegé's lips that made Chris' earlier demand to suck him off all too tempting to pass by, but as the last layer of fabric on Piers' body was shoved away and the contact of having his erection there in his hand brought him out of his hypnotism and there to the task at hand.

Forearms caught against the wall, scrapping and tearing the flesh up and bricks bit the skin on Piers arms, leaking bits of blood. He felt Chris fumble to get closer to him, his larger frame encompassing him with ease. He had to lean down to bite Piers just where the back of his neck peeked over the delicate fabric of his scarf. "Fuck soldier boy, beg for it." He wanted to hear the hitch in his voice, the moan that tumbled from those perfect cock sucking lips as he gripped the fabric in one hand forcing Piers to gasp. Gathering the soft material in one hand and twisting it he relished in the sound of Piers choking off the words, time and time again. Chris smirked into the crook of Piers' shoulder, lining himself up to take everything he wanted. Piers soft flesh was cold, but he remembered the fire that burned him form the inside out as Chris rubbed the head of his dick along the soft puckered flesh, growling at him to despite the moaned hiss that escaped his partner's lips from the vice grip on the fabric about his neck.

"Please, Captain."


	2. Reminiscence

"Please, Captain."

.._hard to find a good steak around here._ Once an icebreaker to initiate conversation with his brooding captain, albeit one which failed miserably, it now ironically seemed an underlying invitation to the primal treatment he now received at the hands of the man he looked up to. Piers could still taste the vodka flavored kiss against pouted lips, which, with a quick dart of his tongue, he could feel had swelled further from it. Those eagle eyes of his which could pick off a speck of a target from a high powered lens were trained to the gritty concrete underfoot, even as each breath he sucked in came in a higher pitch from the constraining scarf around the smooth skin of his neck, reddened and marred by his captain's teeth. Chris had been a man of action, always, and brawny hands gave testament to that as they treated the trademark scarf as a leash, a firm pull against the fabric causing the smaller mans head to lift in forced compliance. "I didn't fuckin' **hear** you, kid." Neat brows furrowed in response to his captain's words, and color rushed to his countenance as he found himself spurred on by the challenge, yet his response was cut short by a sudden yank of the scarf as the scruff of Chris' face scratched against his ear, his scent all the more sweeter to drunk senses.

Piers had always been one for a challenge. He carried a rifle most men only used in pairs, and fired it standing more often than not when it was built particularly for the prone position. Recoil had never stopped him before and it certainly didn't stop him now. It was that glimmer hidden behind golden eyes that defied everything. There were no boundaries Piers hadn't learned to break, he was trained that way, to fight back no matter what the consequences. Chris always pushed him, even when they were thrown into the pits of hell, why should this be any different. It egged him on despite himself, just to see the way his captain would smile approvingly at him for beating all the damn odds. The drunk wicked sneer that pulled at Chris' lips, eying the raw skin as the fabric bit at Piers' neck was no different, just a different sort of challenge that warranted all of what he had to give.

"P-nngh.. Please, Captain." Piers choked out as the scarf remained coiled around his throat, causing him to swallow dryly as he begged once more, and he knew it pleased Chris the moment he felt the large girth of a throbbing cock pressing now more firmly against the underside of his smooth, bare ass. Clenching his pearly white teeth, while one might find amusement in Agent Piers Nivans of the SOU unit of the BSAA being treated like a back-alley slut. Deep within he knew it was where, and what he must be, it was for the captain, to once more make him the man he knew him to be. As the bulbous tip of Chris' cock began pressing into the crevice of his ass, he emitted a hoarse grunt. With Piers' pants in a heap about his ankles, he was trapped in place, and he wondered if somehow, the captain knew it. Knew that in his boots, there was no hope of simply kicking his pants off, and the burly hand which held his scarf like a leash would not release him. "I knew you wanted this, Nivans. Goddamned slut..." His words trailed off as Chris could feel pressure behind his eyes, perspiration gleaming against his dark brows, a flash of remembrance as he could feel the blazing sun beating down upon him, every accentuated muscle of his huge frame slick with sweat making his clothes stick to him all the more uncomfortably. Just as he attempted to remember the location of his flashback, a black leather-covered fist manifested to collide fiercely against his face, snapping him out of the flashback as if he'd been lost in nightmares.

Deep within his barrel chest, he growled in frustration, and he lifted his hand, pursing his lips as he spat into his palm, lowering the hand to make do with what lubrication was available, stroking the pulsating girth of his dick until it grew slick. Cupping the same hand, it moved back just a bit before he gave the younger mans ass a spank which caused a snapping clap of flesh on flesh to echo through the alley, off the filth and dilapidated garbage. It wasn't anything the young sniper couldn't handle, he simply closed his eyes for a moment, color still filling his cheeks. It wasn't until the one that followed that he remembered his captains brute strength. The man spent time hand to hand with BOWs and when he was hell bent on causing injury there was no question as to who was in charge. Chris moved his arm back much further than the last time, the muscles of his triceps and biceps bulging with a flex before the hand was slapped against Piers' ass hard enough that it nearly knocked the smaller mans head into the alley wall his shredded forearms were already pressed against. This time, it caught Piers off guard, and it wasn't a grunt that came; his pouty lips parted as he heaved a gasp, blinking rapidly for a few moments as he briefly looked over his shoulder, and there he was, his leader hulking above him like a muscled beast. He could actually feel the red hand print upon the firm cheek of his ass. Shortly after the spanks, Chris lifted the hand he had used to lubricate his cock to his face, his lips forced apart as he lewdly pushed his middle finger past his lips and into his humid mouth, "Suck on it," Chris voice was a deep rasp, caught in his chest while he impatiently waited for his partner to do as commanded. He could watch Piers suck his fingers all day; dragging the pad of his fingers along the inside of his cheek before shoving them to the back of his throat causing the man under him to gag on them. Moistening the finger, he slid it back out past his lips as a brief line of spittle hung from his lower lip, and he swiftly lifted his forearm to clumsily wipe away the tasteless spit from his mouth.

"You know the fuckin' drill, kid.. push out with that puckered ass, or I'll rip you in half." Nearly snarling the words out, he released his death grip upon the scarf to reach down, using his fingers to part the cheeks of Piers' ass, pressing the slick fingertip against the tight entrance, and Piers paused for a moment. It was difficult for a soldier to forget his dignity and pride, but if getting fucked bareback again was what it would take to bring his captain back, he would take one for the team, and a part of him couldn't help but feel shameful due to his own guilty pleasure. As Chris threatened to start jamming his thick finger into the asshole, Piers finally submitted. Rolling his neck in a circular motion, he held his breath for a moment as he pushed out with his anus, allowing access within his bowels. Chris chuckled under his breath, that which reeked of alcohol, caressing the tip of his finger against the puckered anus before he shoved his finger into Piers' asshole, and the smaller soldier did his very best not to express any pain on his face, instead burying his face into his own bicep, hiding the pangs of pain on his face. Deeper the finger went; expanding the inner walls of Piers' ass, but Chris was not in the mood for patience, not this time. Yanking the slick finger away from the puckered orifice, he reached to grip the base of his neglected cock, stuffing the impossibly thick head of his cock betwixt the cheeks, and stuffed it into the snipers ass. Piers' mouth suddenly went agape, his pretty face twisted in silent agony as pleasurable grunts could be heard from behind him, and that dick began pushing further, Piers' asshole swallowing every inch like an eager slut. In just a few moments, Piers shuddered hard with a sound mixed with pain and pleasure as Chris' invading cock brushed past his prostate, nearly causing him to jump out of his own skin.

Chris tilted his scruffy chin downward as he clenched his teeth, hissing in a deep breath while he reached forward with a muscular appendage, catching the scarf once more. There was no way on earth this little bitch was going to hide from him; he pulled back hard against the scarf, yanking Piers' face away from his bicep to tilt it straight back, and the captain looked upon that sculpted, angular face while his free arm reached down to wrap around Piers' waist, lowering himself as his chest pressed down against the other man's back. Even getting fucked like this he had to say the kid was almost perfect, the way his face tried to mask the pain of Chris bruising his body from the inside out, along with the small gasps of pleasure that struck him every time Chris buried himself just right. Nuzzling his scruffy cheeks against Piers' hair, he inhaled his scent once more as his hips began to gyrate back and forth. Sweat, gunpowder, garbage, and a slightest hint, when he buried his face against the strained muscles of his neck, something sweet. His cock exploring the kid's ass as it began to piston within the depths of his bowels, and the sound of his muscled thighs clapping against the ass cheeks of Piers would soon begin to fill the alley. Both men breathing heavily, Piers moved to lift an arm, his bloodied forearms shaking as his hand splayed out against the wall, doing his best to brace himself against the physical onslaught assaulting his body. Each thrust of his captain's hips shoved him forward against the wall, just barely saving himself from having his nose break against the solid brick wall. It hurt, but he could take it, and he began whispering the latter of those thoughts beneath his breath, that was, until the sound of his captain's sounds and the clapping of flesh was pierced by a moan which began low but reached a high pitch, his own body betraying him. Piers' fingertips scraped at the brick wall as he was left breathing even harder, wishing in the back of his mind that he would reach the hand that was like a vice on his hip would wrap around and find it's place between his legs. But this was Chris, and even when he remembered Piers it was hard to get the man to touch him in any way but violently. The captain held nothing back, pounding the fat girth of his dick balls deep within the stretched ass that struggled to accommodate the size which slid into his gut with no restraint.

Piers began to break down, his stoic demeanor crumbling as he melted beneath the control of his captain. His head forcefully tilted back, his bright hazel eyes shot open to stare straight up, a fire escape above them, and he could just make out the tiny dots of light in the star studded sky with glazed eyes. It was hard to swallow, yet he still managed to emit what one could only describe as whorish moans, his ass being pounded like a piece of meat, and much to his own chagrin, he could feel his own cock twitch and begin to stiffen. The clapping of flesh grew louder as Chris' rhythm moved faster, pushing as deep as their position would allow, and Chris could barely feel the salty sweat which began to form at his hairline, trickling down against his coarse facial hair. "I'll.. unngh.. I'll show you who never misses a shot, you little fuck." Spoken from the depths of his chest, his voice was intimidating in its guttural tone, yet it was strained as he began to feel a tight knot within his loins. Piers' could feel the meaning in his captain's voice, sending a shiver up his protege's spine, making his eyes flutter shut.

Another flashback flickered in his minds eye as his hips pounded relentlessly against that smooth, firm ass. This time, he was standing in what could only be described as a dark corridor, and standing before him was a lean, fit blonde man who looked incredibly clean, a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes, and the blonde man pulled a familiar gun on him, revealing a shark-like grin. Meanwhile, his muscular chest heaved as he furrowed his sweaty brows, every muscle in his large frame flexing as he turned his head, biting the earlobe of the soldier he fucked, his mouth lowering to sink his teeth into the crook of Piers' neck and shoulder, biting hard enough to cause Piers to let out a sound of unadulterated pain, yet somehow it tingled with pleasure, knowing that he had caused his tight-lipped countenance to finally break down. His greasy cock continuously invaded that sweet asshole, and Piers could feel that large dick throb against the muscles in his ass, gasping as he felt the cock beginning to swell, but by that point, his body felt so weak from the sexual assault that his bare knees nearly buckled.

Even while inebriated to the point of barely being able to stand, it was as if his instinctive side took over, greedily pounding away at the offered ass of his favored subordinate. He knew the moment he'd met Piers, that playful curl on his lips that he'd be his bitch in every definition of the word. His balls slapping against Piers' as his hips gyrated in a circular motion, keeping himself as deep as humanly possible. He slipped subconsciously back within the flashback involving the blonde man holding a gun trained on him, the man speaking soundless words with a smug expression upon his face, causing a flare of anger to surge within him. Piers was the victim of such anger, his ass feeling absolutely raw at the relentless invasion of that huge cock. Chris could only watch helplessly behind his eyelids as the blonde man, rather than shoot him, struck him with the butt of the sidearm, causing Chris Redfield to let out a yell of frustration. Just as Piers was at his mercy in the flashback, he was at the mercy of this blonde man, wearing a blue and black uniform, with the words "_S.T.A.R.S_." printed. What the fuck did they stand for? As the blonde man dragged his barely conscious body into a dark, cold cell, he couldn't get up, the blow to his head must have been harder than he expected.

He felt his cock begin to swell, moments away from blowing his load deep into Piers' ass. Chris shook his head to try and shake the flashback as his broad musculature flexed and began to perspire, running his tongue over the bitten and almost mutilated skin on Pier's neck, tasting the sweat that beaded there. A few harder thrusts and he kept himself balls deep within that pretty asshole, that puckered anus now stretched around his meat. He could see the blonde man standing over him with that same cheshire cat grin, and he wanted to stand, to beat the blonde man to a bloody pulp, but the man showed no fear as he stood back and gripped the door. Just as the rusty cell door was slammed, he screamed "no..No..NOOOO!" While that cell door slammed shut, the tip of his rock-hard cock spurted his seed deep within Piers' bowels, his hips smacking against the reddened ass that would for certain be bruised later, and each time a stream of his cum shot up Piers' ass, he groaned and held tight onto the scarf, gagging the moan that tumbled from his partner's lips.

It had been a large, thick load of cum, as the captain hadn't taken care of himself in quite some time, and he could feel a wave of relief throughout his body as his contracting muscles relaxed. He had just fucked Piers Nivans senseless, leaving the kid panting hard beneath him. Chris took a moment to bask in the feeling of his ejaculation even as his cum, mingled with blood, began to dribble and drip down Piers ass and down between his thighs. Piers was too filled with lust and emotion to care, and he gave a tired, lopsided grin which curved at the corner of his mouth, meeting his with exhausted half lidded eyes. Perhaps this was what the captain needed, to remember, to be the man Piers knew him to be, and he'd be damned if he didn't admit he missed the way the man could wreck him almost as much as he missed his clean cut captain of the SOU. Chris pulled hard enough on the scarf that Piers was forced to stand, choking back a stream of obscenity. Chris planted a soft kiss behind Piers earlobe before his tongue dragged against the same spot, forcing Piers' head to turn while he once more planted his lips against the kid's, a hard kiss still tasting of vodka. Piers didn't fight it this time, letting himself give in to the want he always guarded himself against. Piers gasped for air as the salty taste of sweat mingled in their mouths, shocked when it was cut off by Chris suddenly giving a hard shove against the back of Piers' shoulders. With his pants still around his ankles, there was little to nothing he could do in his exhausted state but find himself toppling into a metal trash can, both he and the trash can tumbling over as he landed on his back with a grunt, the back of his thighs still moist with the gooey cum running down them. His conviction was in his eyes as he looked up and trying to catch his breath. "Captain.. you... I.. you have to come back.. I-_we_ need you.." Chris hiked up his pants and stumbled up against the wall and nearly fell himself, buttoning his jeans, using the wall as a brace. As he stared sternly down at what was left of a once proud soldier, taking a long moment to consider him, he dug into his jean pockets, victoriously pulling out a small wad of cash, tossing it so it would land on Piers' chest. "Clean yourself up, whore.. if you try anything funny, I'll fuck your face before my gun does."


	3. Persuasion

There come a certain point at which a soldier breaks down. No man is a machine. No man can continue fighting back forever, but just because a man _doesn't_ fight back, doesn't mean he _can't_. The wad of disregarded money was a spit on Piers' dignity, that up until this point despite letting Chris do what he had, was yet intact. It was obvious while they were together he remembered bits of his partner. The slurred and misused 'man that never misses a shot,' and the way he handled him in general didn't ever fault. Deep purpling bruises were forming everywhere, and the torn flesh on his face was starting to swell even in the cold of Edonia, not to mention the burning of the exposed tissue on his forearms. His hips, thighs, not to mention the throbbing pain from the inside out of being completely ruined by Chris. His body was abused and battered. In any other circumstance he would have been content to stay collapsed there to let the pain subside. The crumpled up bills fluttered off him and rolled onto the ground and it caused the younger man to push back all the pain and degradation he had experienced to battle back. Despite the fluids and shit in that alleyway, he braced a shoulder against the brick wall, the one that had already claimed rights to the skin of his forearms and face, the blood dripping slowly and coagulating on the flesh of his arms as he wrenched himself off the ground, pushing with his outer foot to get some leverage as he forced himself to stand up against it. Disregard filth and dirt fell back to the ground as he replaced stained clothes to his bloodied knees and lower body, cum still clinging to his legs and now coating the inside of his jeans. The throbbing of his lower body was just another thing to push away, and it ached passed the point of numbness. Fastening the button in place, he kept his eyes trained on Chris with precision, noting how long it took to hit the sidewalk. His voice ripped through the silence as boots thumped onto sidewalk, "Chris!"

It was a clear rarity when Piers used his captain's name. Even while he was intimate with him the sniper rarely dropped the formality, but he needed to hear it, watch it sting him into tensing. The man he knew, the man he cared about wouldn't have done that. It cheapened everything that had happened before it. The only times they had ever done this had always been when Chris was a mess. They were caught between hell, world they fought for, and breaking down entirely from the loss of their team mates. They both should have been dead and it seemed like a haze had come over them. It had been the passion to be alive that brought on the so called quick fuck in the alley the time before; the idea that they should both be dead and yet they were the only ones to walk out of those missions alive. They were soldiers, there was no time for caressing, love, or the like, and honestly he was never sure Chris felt those things at all. Just the raw need that drove them to each other to prove they were still alive despite all the undead and newly deceased. It was clear that the captain needed more than this now, and even in the state he was in, he was more than keen to grant it to him.

"Turn around!" The young man's voice was hoarse, a rasp of the tenor it use to be from the abuse it had taken over being choked out through the vice grip on his throat. Even talking caused him to cough, clenching his jaw to fight the pain that refused to subside. A hand slid up as he stumbled to his feet to cover his lips with the back of it, bracing the other dirtied hand against the wall behind him before shoving off it and forcing himself to his full height, glaring at the silhouette of his once commanding officer. "Turn around before I make you Redfield."

"Oh really?" Stopping mid-stride, there was a bitter humorlessness to Chris' voice, barely a whisper as he peered back over his burly shoulder to face him, eying coldly the man who had just played the whore for him. "You're in over your head Nivans." He would have moved on without even thinking back on him until he found the sniper's side arm trained on him with amazing technique, unwavering. Where the hell had he gotten that from? It caused the man to reactionary reach down to where his own would have been by natural instinct, facing him completely on the draw before he realized there wasn't a weapon to be had. Confusion made his head reel from both booze and exertion, finally his eyes honing in on the customized 9-0-9 tucked in Piers' grip, lips curled in a sneer. "That's mine."

"Damn right it is." At least his captain remembered that much. He'd left the hospital without it six months ago and Piers hadn't let it go since. Pangs of hatred seeped into Piers expression, stepping with measured accuracy over the uneven cracks in the cement. He didn't hate Chris, he could never. This man was the one he had always hoped he could be someday. That pushed him to the brink and made everyone around him better for it, but he hated what such a noble man had let himself become. Years of training and learned dexterity managed him about the garbage underfoot, towards Chris like the marksman he was, never dropping his gaze or conviction. He had never lacked for conviction and now he needed it more than he needed anything else. He couldn't lose his nerve, not here.

How could he remember the gun, but not remember Piers? "Come and get it." His body was aching, numbness from adrenaline wearing into pure agonizing pain and he knew all too well how little more his body could take. There was the challenge in his voice though, and the bitterness in Chris' countenance was twisting in defiance while he watched through narrowed almost onyx eyes as he stepped closer. He would either have to put up the fight or let Chris walk away forever. The only upper hand he had here was that Chris was drunk. He had been completely beaten down, and moving his legs at all lanced pain up his spine with each step causing him to grimace and grit his teeth. Not to mention the precision he was forcing into himself. Piers was a soldier, 'it hurts, but I can take it.' He stopped roughly six feet from his captain, the fists at his sides clenching and unclenching at the sight of the muzzle so near his face.

Telling himself to shut it out, he holstering the weapon under the lip of his jeans, the cold metal along the small of his back making him wince. He had no time for Chris' bullshit though and pushed away the tingling running up his vertebra. Lust laced but vehemently glowering hazel eyes transfixed on their target, cocking his head carefully to the side as he cracked his knuckle, making a silent curse at himself for what he was about to do. Chris didn't hesitate. The definition of fool's errand flashed at the forefront of the youth's brain, knowing that when sober, a fist fight with Chris Redfield was about as brilliant a move as wrestling an enraged rhinoceros. But Chris wasn't sober, and Piers had determination. He knew how little he had left to do this with, maybe only three or four minutes before his adrenaline and sheer willpower would be won over by fatigue. He cursed under his breath the lack of tactical gear and the constraints of jeans over fatigues, but this was a battle of willpower, not range of motion, though it would have been nice to have both. Chris' steps were misjudged and balance uncoordinated, but his strength and hatred knew exactly how to move him. The thud of boots on cement, gravel stirring underfoot and tiny crushed aluminum cans clinking.

Nothing slows down when you fight a man. Step by step training, experience, adrenaline, nothing can stop the speed at which a trained killer comes at you. The world does a lateral spin and suddenly you can either move or you freeze. When Chris had come and recruited Piers he knew the kid could shoot. He was the best sniper the BSAA had ever seen, but when it came to hand to hand combat, Chris immediately got to work. You couldn't get into the BSAA or SOU without first having the training for it, and those who did were already significantly skilled. It was why they were the best. The younger man's family was all military and he knew all the basics and had the obvious natural talent. But Chris wanted him as his partner, so he trained Piers rigorously. Like his life depended on it. It had. When you ran out of bullets in the field you are fucked unless you can counter a thing that weighs easily three times your own mass. Pain and fortitude had everything to do with it. How much pain a man could take and drive through and at that same time hit your target. It was kill or kill and be killed. There was no room for failure. Training with Chris Redfield was an honor. He trained him to anticipate, to be the back up to a world class pointman. Piers had his back no matter what happened in the field and Chris never once doubted if his partner would come through for him because he knew full well that rather than lose, Piers would sooner sacrifice himself than let his captain fall. He knew every tip of his hip, jerk of his leg, or flex of his bicep that signaled how the older soldier would shift because he had failed to notice them and been knocked out in training more than once learning them. Chris was a battle torn warrior who had been in a fair share of brawls and short handed fights, he had the experience and luck of muscle memory. Piers' had the lightning fast reflexes of youth though, and eyes that caught ever detail or ripple in muscle that told him in advance just what he needed to do. It took a few steps to bring down an enemy, but it only took one to lose.

Dropping to a side step that Piers locked into, Chris felt a solid shoulder greet his chest, tipping his balance just the slightest to bring a right cross that threatened to collide with that all too pretty face. It could have ruined a man, but in this instance; Piers caught it with two dexterous hands, one covering his knuckles and the other encircling his wrist. If he hadn't been drunk Piers would never have managed to flip him, but momentum was on his side. A thud bounced off the broken down brick and back to them as it echoed off the alley walls, Chris' back arching against the concrete beneath him, unable to fight the coughing spasm that took him from impact, bile creeping up in his throat. Piers collapsed a scraped knee onto his captain's ribcage, vomit choking out Chris' throat and onto the ground beside him as he sputtered, everything fuzzy from the combination of booze, impact, and Piers' weight leaned on his gut.

Everything happening in an instant, a flicker of time. All Chris saw apart from the blur of a full moon was Piers, hovering there over him in a sheen of sweat as he faded out. "I'm taking you back captain."


	4. Epiphany

**To those of you who have commented, THANK YOU! I love comments. I've been so thrown into this piece for the last few days that it kind of wrote itself. Kind of easy to tell since I've updated twice today . . But for the love of all that is holy its too fun. I don't apologize to Piers for the fun I had writing chapters one and two, but he needed some loving. Also this should explain why Chris is so pissed off at him after they go back on mission and keeps throwing him dirty looks whenever they touch.**

**None of these characters belong to me! Though I do keep Piers Nivans in a cage in my basement for me own delicious pleasures. I may do another PiersxChris, but you'll have to wait and see!**

It was always smell that came back first.

A killer hangover had the ability to knock someone off their feet if they weren't ready for it, but mix that with nostalgia of a life passed living and it was a combination made to kill. Sea spray and crisp ocean air flooded into Chris' dreamlike senses that masked the scent of stale day old vomit and sweat of the motel room that his team and brought him to. _It was so vividly clear, that it hardly seemed like merely a memory, clarity and assurance flooding through him as the wisps of water tingling his senses. They had spent three days aboard the ship that brought them to the western shores of Europe, heading toward some unknown destination that refused to come back to him. But he remembered this. He'd come here with a team hand crafted to do the job with the best results in mind, each one in their own respect specialists that were hell bent with a purpose. He didn't know what the hell that purpose was either, but it didn't matter, he trusted these men. Just felt the spray of the sea drifting over him like a blanket, tiny droplets kissing the course five 'o clock shadow he hadn't shaved since getting on board. He knew them all like family, they were his brothers of a family brought together by war. He could hear their laughter as another wave came crashing into the rigging, fading in and out between the slosh of the sea and the creak of the ship._

The creaking was Piers' boot heels urging squeaks from the floor boards beneath him, pacing the length of a match box sized room. His legs hurt him still but he'd seen their medic after their battle and they had given him first aid without looking twice at the rest of what lie under his clothing. A change of clothes, camouflage fatigues most importantly, helped ease the pain of being so completely out of his element. His arms were scabbed and starting to heal, along with his knees which had taken a brutal beating. He was more concerned with if the throbbing in his backside would ever stop or if the battle would continue once his captain came to. Like a bear in hibernation, Chris had been comatose for near twenty hours. Snoring in through a busted lip and out through grit teeth, this was the first he'd seen him move since the boys had brought him here. Grimy disgusting stains and bits of trash still clung to the older hulk of a man and sweat soaked the bed from being so long without a drink. Piers hadn't even pu in the request to stay on and watch after the other man, he didn't need to. Watching over him was his job, ever since he'd joined B.S.A.A he'd been there to catch him if he fell. He wouldn't leave him now that he had hit the bottom.

_His men were all perched in his mind's eye, two sitting with their legs kicked out, the other hunched over them like brothers in arms. Ben with that stern set jaw and haughty laughter that would bellow out every time that Carl would make a dirty joke about the hooker he planned to marry back home. They didn't have to find things to laugh about, together they were family and each of their quirks was what made the men special. It was a familiar sight to see them all sitting together there on deck, swapping war stories about the times they'd all thought they were dead and had Chris pull them out alive at the last minute. It scared the pants off their rookie. Finn never got use to the group. So finicky no matter how many times Chris laid a hand on his shoulder to support him and remind him they were all together in this. Andy was jawing something about how Finn would probably piss himself in his first real bioterrorist attack, but not to worry because all the ladies in their team wore Depends in case they couldn't hold it. They were all there, Chris watching over them like his children from a distance, laughing and relaxing and enjoying the sun and spray. Andy, Ben, Carl, and Finn. _A smile crossed his half unconscious face, watching the scene play out behind his heavy eyelids, ignoring the buzzing of cars that seemed to try to invade on the scene. Piers had needed help to move him to the motel after he had all but collapsed himself. The boys didn't know, they'd never find out if the man had his way of it. For all the BSAA was concerned, it was a bar fight inside that turned into a battle between the two in the alley, and Piers had had the battle scares to support it.

It was already dark again and the guys had all left. There was barely any of them that wanted to see if Chris would remember who they were or what they had done together. No one wanted to think of the B.S.A.A. losing its best captain, but it was all but given. Everyone else had given up looking months ago, and those that hadn't thought him dead in a barn somewhere figured it was time to let the man leave in piece. He couldn't continue to fight on forever could he? What they saw was a tired man hitting middle age, ready for a walker and a retirement village while the good ol' boys went out from now on to rescue the world. They didn't know how strong Chris was. Didn't feel the power in each flex of his arm while it was tight around him, or the force he struck with when he slammed one of those 'fierce young men.' They had no idea what the hero of the world was capable of, or how much strength was left in him. His body was a testiment to that knowledge and he didn't regret what had happened that night or the heat that spread through him remembering how it felt to be filled by a man like that.

Chris couldn't see those things though, he was too transfixed on the clarity before him. _There were no emotions of fear, no clenched jaws or insecurity. He had led these men in and out of every situation imaginable and this would be no different. They would go in, and they would come out, and every one of them would go home to their families safe and sound._ _A chuckle bubbled from deep his throat, leaning on the railing as he watched them all sharing a flask with each other. His eyes darted over the perfect scene, knowing in his heart that it would never be like that again. He had to enjoy it while it lasted. It would never be perfect and he would never be the man that brought his team out alive. But he smiled all the same. There was nothing missing... was there?_

_It clawed at the back of his subconscious, cat's claws feral and drawing down his back, piercing and bleeding him to remember what he was pushing away, but he didn't want to leave all this behind and return to the shit hole he'd climbed himself into. Why was he shutting it out? His eyes wandered the steel world, finding each man on deck busy about their business and marking each face and uniform. So many naval officers to their tiny little group of men. Until those hazel eyes that caught him mid sweep. He could drown in those eyes, he did every time he saw them._ An oh so subtle gasp broke the chain of soft snores, bring Piers to the side of the flea-bitten mattress, springs poking up in the fabric and nipping his fingers as he leaned weight down to check Chris' forehead for heat, coming up with flecks of a cold sweat that beaded his skin. Piers wiped it away and stepped back, crossing arms tight over his chest and mag rigs to obseve the way the man seemed to jerk a lopsided smile in his unconsciousness.

_Flecks of gold in shades of tawny brown and green that seemed to convey every concern and fear in them and carry it with pride. His partner. He trusted him with his life. Three short years together and he hadn't met a man who could read him half so well as the sniper protege. Always geared up; riggings secured, flak jacket in place, with all tactical gear customized and pristine for the specialty only he excelled at. He was a godsend in his own right and not a man among them compared to him. They could enjoy down time, be on leave, or have a beer at the bar, and that kid never cracked a smile, never conversed with his team, he even resented more than half of them. How could someone so young, so overqualified, be so stern? The only time he ever saw him smile was for Chris. The slight curl of the lip and raise of the brow that were meant only for his partner. The first time he'd seen it, they had run a training exercise he had passed heads and tails above the rest and Chris found his fingers squeezing his partner's arm, parting his lips to speak words of approval that he could hardly remember. He remembered that smile though, those lips were made for smiling. After that he was always apart from the team, but like a magnet to his captain never leaving his side even for a brief moment. He was there on deck, on the other side of the railing where Chris had left him so he could go talk with a superior, waiting for him to come back with all the patience in the world, clutching that Anti-Material rifle of his to his chest like a lover and had it crooked in his shoulder as though he could save the world just by the threat of it alone. He could._

_He saw the hero-worship the moment he laid eyes on the kid, and in a way Chris needed it. 23 and so promising, but he wanted nothing more than to be by the gruff side of a man well into his prime. It would only have been awkward if he had sucked at his job, but in fact was better than anyone else he'd ever recruited. Always out to prove himself, to be the one that saved them down to the last man. He took every challenge person in turn and if he couldn't do what was being asked he trained himself to the point of breaking so that that time would have been the last time that he couldn't do something Chris wanted. He was defensive and cruel to everyone but lit up whenever he was met approval and his fingers would card through the trim short hair. Chris loved the attention, he reveled in it. He didn't need to ask to know it was more than just admiration that was felt there. Chris felt it too. Piers made him feel like the man he wanted to be. They were perfect for each other, partners that mirrored each other's abilities and fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. And there he was staring at him still with no judgement at all, just locked on each other's eyes as they would stay that way forever. That was the first time he'd ever thought about the two of them together as more than partners. The first time he thought that if he'd kissed him, Piers would have broken every rule and kissed him back._

"Piers.."

The sound of Chris' voice rasping out brought Piers swiftly to the side of the bed, but it was obvious he wasn't conscious yet, just mulling in the splendor of whatever he'd been dreaming. He couldn't help but smirk knowing his name was the one on his captain's gruff lips, despite everything that had happened. Chris seemed almost peaceful there, his arms and legs splayed out across the expanse of a full sized bedframe that seemed dwarfed by comparison of such a large body, thuck with tight ropes of muscle. He was slick with a sheen of sweat that had turned the sheets and clothes stretched to fit his girth a shade darker.

He let the name roll off his tongue a few times in one long syllable, opening his dark eyes at long last to stare at a wicker fan missing two blades that whirred over his head. Continuing on to the thrum of the fan like the name was a chant, humming under his breath each time he thought of the smile his partner saved for him. He could only imagine how his name would come off Piers' lips, gasping it out when he would finally get a chance to be with him. That was until it hit him like a napad to his chest all over again, the twist of lips and groan of pain that tumbled from his mouth when Chris entered him. It finally dawned on him where he was, what had happened the night before. Oh God... Piers. How could he ever meet those eyes again without feeling his stomach wretch? He lurched, rolling over on the mattress that flattened beneath his weight and hurled up what was left of last night onto the floor. His partner came to get him, save him all over again, and then he... It was like a nightmare. A horrible nightmare and all he could hear was Wesker's aristocratic laugh taunting him for becoming the man he always knew him to be. He'd thrown money at his feet and called him a whore. He felt another wave of nausea hit him, the splatter hitting the white foam of stomach acid pooled on the stained carpeting when there was nothing left.

"Hey, its alright Captain, get it out." An all too soothing, familiar voice brought him to his senses of the hand on his back, giving a reassurance rub with every cough and wheeze, spitting the last of the stale vodka taste to the ground. He couldn't look. Couldn't see the cuts on his face from having thrown him into that wall. Why hadn't he fought backand completely capable of defending himself? Piers was a skilled agent of the SOU and was the only man of his crew that could throw a right upper cut that could knock a B.O.W. on its ass, but he'd let Chris turn him into some back alley slut? He couldn't take the idea and ripped himself away from caring hands, batting him away with the back of a fist.

"The hell it is Nivans! Why," He spat again, lurching to a sitting position, smearing his arm across his mouth to remove the bits of whatever that had splattered and clung there, which only in turn got it caught on the flesh of his arm. "Why!? I know you well enough to know that the shit I pulled last night never would have... I could kill you. What was going through your damned head? Just get in one more fuck before he's gone forever? I mean honestly Piers! Where the hell did all your training go! I taught you better than that!" He was shouting, spewing insult after insult as though it would make it better if it was as Piers' fault as Chris' for letting him take advantage of their relationship. And yet there it was, even just peering over his hand he could see it, hidden. That sultry, proud smile, that tugged almost unnoticeably at the corner of perfectly sculpted albeit bruised lips, the quirked brow scratched and marred with a scab from the night before. Why the hell was he smiling?! "I swear sometimes it makes me wonder just why the hell you're my partner. I don't care what happened between us for the passed three years, you don't just bend over and take it when a drunk tells you he wants a quickie. I was on the verge of blacking out I was so waste, WHAT is your Goddamn PROBLEM!? Why the hell are you smiling?!" He threw a hand to the side, clutching his throbbing headache with the other, leaning into it while he shouted, shooting an accusing snarl up at the man who looked so smug, while he felt like shit, bracing his elbows on his knees.

"How many years captain?" There was amusement mingling into Piers' voice, dancing there at the tip of his tongue like a secret only he knew.

"Three you fucking retard! Three years and you just take it in the alley like a bitch all because wha- Oh..." The room filled with a deafening silence as Chris looked from his partner about the room they were surrounded in, like a shroud was lifted from the rest of the world. Disgusting, cramped quarters that weren't fit for a roach, but in it Piers' glowed like a light in the darkness. Kid was so damn proud of himself that Chris might just kill him for that smugness that settled in over his features. Avoiding the vomit pooled at their feet, he slipped an arm about his captain's shoulders, supporting him from the whirlwind of his hangover. Piers... 24 hours ago he couldn't have told you the color of his partner's eyes and now he couldn't forget them even if you'd beat his face in. Certainly had a way of getting his point across that was for certain. "You are such a shit." A chuckle escaped bruised and battered lips, pressure of the two leaning their foreheads together the first good thing he'd felt in a long while.

So damn forgiving this kid. Like Chris could do no wrong even after spitting on him and tearing his dignity into pieces. Piers knew what he was doing. "I'm a soldier, I can take it remember?" It earned a half laugh, that turned into a chuckle in his chest, aggravated by a long while of smoking, drinking, and the blow to his ribs he'd taken that night. Chris' calloused fingers reaching up to grip the sides of smooth skin, pressing their lips together briefly but lovingly. He loved Piers for bringing him away from that place, for being his partner, for being the one that always came back. Everyone always died, left, hid themselves away from him like he was a deadly disease. Piers never left. He gave up his body and his pride to bring back his captain and for that he could have thrown himself wholly into the boy. He pulled away, and resting his forehead against him again, lost staring at the curve in his lip, and lamenting on everything that had happened. He was too happy at the moment to be pissed over letting Piers use himself that way, but he certainly wouldn't let him forget it.

"Such a shit..."


	5. Nostalgia

Shifting precariously on the side of beaten down mattress springs, Piers watched the older better man he knew silently pawing at the facet in the bathroom, washing away the stink of the night before from the course facial hair clinging to his jaw. There was no shower in this place, but the sink would do for now, raking fingers over his eyelids and rinsing frozen water over his profile. He'd been at it for a almost a half hour now, washing away the grim on his face to reveal a cleaner version of himself, one without the grief he'd been feeling for the last six months. Every time the ticking of the watch would break through the silent shrieking of the fountain before him to glance through chipped and ruined glass on the mirror to examine the man perched behind him. Every time he would stop to look at his second in command Piers made certain that he was staring right back at him, never showing the slightest hint of regret in everything that had happened prior. And then Chris would continue his ritualistic cleansing, beginning the process on his thick meated arms. There were things caught in the fine hairs on his bulged muscles, clawing bits out.

They'd been silent since he'd begun, lips pursed in constant concentration while working the crisp cool water into every pore, but as he worked with his arms and cleaned away stinking bits of filth, he finally broke the silence. "Its been six months?" Watching him in the mirror he caught the surety of a brief nod before continuing, accepting it quickly. Piers wouldn't lie to him, he knew that much. The problem was he remember the men in his memories, but not what happened to them, and certainly not why they were no longer here with them. He remembered Piers. He was fairly certain he could remember even the first time he'd seen that glint in his eye that had him questioning how long ago their relationship had begun, however...

"Piers... how did we meet?" He wanted to remember, and there were things he did, flashes of things he was certain were memories but other things he wasn't entirely certain about. were they hopes or wishes. Were they intimate beyond these random trysts? How did it begin? He was certain how he felt about the man now, but how did his sniper feel about him? The questions started to flood to mind, filling his mind with the first edges of a migraine, but it was promptly shoved aside by the soft undertones of Piers pleasant laughter, unadulterated happiness hidden there despite their situation. They had only a few days to get themselves together before Chris was going to be leading men into the field. Men he didn't know. But he knew Piers, and he trusted him. Until then though, Chris wanted every single piece of information about the man he could get.

"You don't remember?" Curiosity laced a bit of hidden sadness. The strange silence of the room cut back in while Chris continued to clean, Piers attempting to recall all the events of the day, where he would need to begin so that Chris would understand everything or maybe he didn't need to understand everything and just wanted to know that when they met, there was something more than the average hello goodbye. He scrapped at putting together the room and cleaning the vomit from the ground so that he had something to busy himself with while Chris locked eyes on him, waiting impatiently to begin. He had cleaned up to his elbows, digging out scum from a wound there without wincing as his nails picked out the crap.

Finally with a bit of protest from the long quiet, Piers found himself leaned in the door way, tightening lean arms across his chest to watch Chris cleaning himself up and already looking thirteen years younger. "It was... well I guess October? It may have been November, I'm not really sure, just that it was cold. It was actually a nice change because I was in Spec Ops before you met me and honestly the boiling weather I was use to was a literal polar opposite." He noted Chris lopsided smile returning out the corner of his peripheral, most his attention fixed on his boot laces.

"You never did like the cold." Chris was watching him, no longer rinsing his arms and the faucet stilling while he smirked, enjoying the remembrance of all the times he could pull from his mind that he'd heard Piers complain about the cold. "You don't like the heat more, but you always whine when winter comes." He enjoyed how the memory of those times brought heat to the young man's features, quickly turning away from the cubical of a washroom, his proximity to Chris becoming uncomfortable with how pleased his captain seemed with his discomfort on the matter.

"I don't whine."

"Alright fine, you don't whine. Where was it?"

Piers sighed again, tipping his head back to rest between his shoulder blades, recalling the breeze on his face and the noise around him. "Quantico, Virginia."

_Nerves felt as if they were being cruelly grated as Piers stood amidst hundreds of soldiers. Thick, pouted lips tightened as his sharp eyes closed against the crisp autumn breeze, fighting the urge to break ranks and walk away. There was no denying the young 22-year old sniper had a certain propensity for violence, and those who knew him would sneer and accuse him of being an overachiever. It didn't bother him, that infamous smirk across cupid's bow tiers gave him the look of a cocky little shit as his gaze swept across the soldiers who stared solemnly upon the stage of the U.S.O. tribute. He enjoyed the challenge of war, and a man would give defending his life, but there was honor in defending one's country. Being here wasn't in his nature certainly, but it was something he needed to do for himself. Quantico, VA was ripe with nostalgia and deja'vu; soldiers lost, soldiers there in remembrance of their sacrifices. He should be more understanding of their pain, shouldn't he? Of course.. having been to more than a dozen of these events in his short few years in the military, it seemed that they were a repeat of the same lamenting words being droned off like a sickening chant of unemotional jargon. _

_He was trapped in a frickin' dirge. Yet still, he stood upright in a straight posture that most soldiers could only hope to match, dress blues fitted firmly against his sculpted frame. Military dress was made to look every man look like a cookie cutter of the soldier beside him, but for some people it just worked; for Piers it was the latter. Most young men would feel uplifted to the sound of a tinny guitar or resurgence of The Eagles performing, yet he felt no joy in this, simply boredom, and his deepening deadpan expression gave it away. Peripheral vision could see the soldier adjacent him tearing up and melting, making his own pretty boy countenance look all the more effectively out of place. No one knew him here. There were people who had seen him before, heard his name, but Piers didn't come to U.S.O. programs for the men around him. He did it purely for the selfish reason that he had, in fact, never lost a man in the field. Piers was an ace, and he would never sacrifice a fellow soldier. It was a good clean reminder that __**he never would.**_

Chris cocked his head listening silently to the recollection of how Piers had felt that morning, knowing full well that what the man was doing was telling him the things he had probably never shared before. They had shared the same experiences, but now their thoughts of what was going through the minds of the people around them, or how child like he was back then to imagine he'd never lose a man in combat. Hearing Piers admit it, with that solemn tone, staring at his feet like somehow looking his captain in the face and admitting those things would destroy the confidence he had carried with him. Like Chris would somehow disown him for being young once. Still the recollection brought him quickly to the day they were dancing around and Chris could smell the air creeping up his nostrils along with the after taste of nicotine.

_Goddamn rookies, they all stood like mannequins in their military issued dress blues, what did they know of losing men in the field? Would they still be willing to go back into the fray once they saw the decomposing corpse of a friend sinking its teeth and ripping the still warm flesh from a teammate's throat? Earlier in the year '09, he not only had he saved the life of his long-time friend Jill Valentine, thwarted a diabolical virologist with a god complex from infecting the entire world with missiles containing Uroboros, but still managed to save his S.O.A. partner from losing herself in the world they knew. Who else could say that in one breath and having done it all without a team? He supposed that was why he was out there in the first place. Apparently it was wrong for Chris Redfield to go running around the world without back up, as though they would save him where he could barely save himself. Of course it had been his idea. He'd formed the gosh-forsaken S.O.U., he just didn't think he'd be the one to have to lead it. Or cherry pick the team for that matter. He needed specialists. He wasn't about to go gallivanting into other countries with an untrained response team. He wanted experienced soldiers. The B.S.A.A. wanted something fresh. They were moronic. _

_Unlike the toy soldiers standing in rank in uniform, his hulking upper musculature was covered by a faded black leather jacket, donned over a hunter green turtleneck which strained against his broad shoulders and impossibly thick arms. A black studded belt hugged denim blue jeans against his muscled hips, the denim material stretched against the large bulge betwixt thick thighs and hardened calves. A marlboro red butt hung from his lips as the smoke wafted skyward, plucking the cigarette with his brawny thumb and index finger as he blew the tobacco scented ribbons from his nostrils. A nearby MP officer wrinkled his nose when he caught whiff of the smoke, shooting an offended glare over his shoulder, only causing Chris to shake his head. The little man would just have to stand there and take it. For just a moment, he felt a migraine come on as the resounding drums bellowed from onstage; lifting a hand to press the coarse palm against his forehead. When he closed his eyes, he could see a leather clad fist colliding against his face. They were so fast, and each blow came like a brick being driven against his nose, his jaw. Albert Wesker not only outclassed him in every aspect of combat, he humiliated him. Lord Spencer's bleeding corpse laid motionless behind him as glazed eyes attempted to peer outside the window. He felt like a boxer that had been knocked down time and time again, his powerful limbs limp and gravity pulling them ever downward and there was nothing he could do. By some miracle, he'd survived that. But Wesker was gone, and Chris had to focus. He needed a team that would be able to fight whoever would rise up next to take his place. There was only one Albert Wesker, but there were a thousand and one psychopaths lined up to make Chris' life hell._

_ As swiftly as it came, the dull throbbing pain in his head faded away, and he emitted a guttural grunt as he lifted the cigarette to his lips, once more inhaling smoke into the powerful lungs. Pectorals which could have belonged to an Adonis heaved as he once more blew wisps of smoke past his lips. Eventually, The Eagles ended their tribute, and it was a fuckin' godsend. Chris felt like an outsider, yet, once upon a time, when he was a younger, a more optimistic man, he enlisted with the Air Force. That was 'living the dream.' Court marshaled and dropped from service because he supposedly had 'issues with authority.' He didn't consider them issues per-say, just an enormous lack of respect for complete idiots giving orders to willing participants of death. Their loss. The U.S. Air Force was still running the same old drills that was getting men killed and all he could say was at least he wasn't part of it. This whole meeting of the many was just a sad reminder that no one in the country really 'got' what the B.S.A.A. did for them. The world keeps turning. How was he suppose to find team mates he could trust amongst the mass of delusional drones?_

_ Next would be an onstage 'performance' by President Adam Benford, a former militant and government official, yet another authority figure who did nothing. No governmental puppet would ever expose the rising threat of Bio Organic Weapons; it was up to Chris, and people like him to defend the world against the underworld of bio-weaponry. As his jaded eyes once more scanned the young soldiers facing the stage, he noticed a boyish face peering through the crowd in his direction. Tilting his head, a large hand lifted to rake fingers through his short auburn hair, and as they locked eyes, he furrowed his brows as one phrase came to mind; __**pretty boy**__. He was young... younger than Chris when he first joined up and he had been just a kid back then too. All those 'hopes for the future,' still running circles in his mind. The kid didn't have that american dream though written on his countenance, more like a mild annoyance. There was no stubble of a man there, soft cheeks and the kind of lips begging for a kiss, or something else altogether.  
_

_It was as if the kid recognized him, but he was no familiar face to the U.S. military, especially not to someone who's balls hadn't even dropped during the Raccoon City incident. Nevertheless, the kid caught his interest, but he wouldn't hold his breath. He wasn't looking for children to join his crew, no matter. Flicking the spent cigarette to the ground underfoot, the burning cherry crushed to ash beneath the thick rubber sole. Just as he snatched another cigarette from the crinkled pack of Marlboro's, a man announced the introduction of the President to the stage, which caused an uproar of applause from all. None of them could possibly understand the depth of corruption in the government they fought so valiantly for. Placing the butt of another cigarette between his lips, as the crowd hushed and President Benford spoke, his gaze drifted to a familiar face onstage, a former R.P.D. rookie officer turned agent of the secret service, Leon Scott Kennedy stood vigilant. His respect for the man grew after Raccoon City, when Kennedy aided Claire Redfield's escape. He had always looked after his baby sister, she was the only family he knew. _

Chris chuckled happily at the thought of how young Piers looked in his mind's eye. So child like compared to how he was now, but he was by no means a child and briefly his mind crept through all the thoughts of the things he had once considered doing to his partner. They had led completely separate lives at one point and Chris' had been far more violent, but Piers didn't hesitate a moment with Chris and it made him laugh to think back on it. That look in his eyes when he first saw his captain before he'd known him. Or had he? Had the kid known him? His hangover was threatening another migrane, but he forced it back when he realized what he did remember. He remembered Leon. That much was coming back to him and it caused him to gasp in relief as those memories flooded back to him like a dam shattering under the weight of millions of pounds of life once lived. Chris had stopped talking entirely letting memories of Raccoon, or his sister come back to him. Those people were important to him, they were his life line. Suddenly he could remember nothing more of the day he had spent at that gosh forsaken event and found nothing but memories of Claire floating through his brain.

"Take a minute captain, just let it come back to you. We'll talk about Virginia later. For now just relax."

**I had to break this one up a couple of times. Its almost 10k before I did so, but that was all flash back, so get prepared for a whole bunch of fun fans! For the fans of young Chris and Piers, I hope you are pleased with what's to come. There's a reason these two go between caring and bruising so easily. Piers... you troublemaker...**


	6. Troublemaker

Sleep hadn't aided Chris in finding himself. He had spent almost the entire rest of the day discussing old teammates and family with his partner, catching up to date on where and what had happened to his sister, and why Jill wasn't there. He remembered Jill, and that only served to irritate Piers, but he never hesitated to answer his captain's questions, delving as far into the answers as he was capable. It was apparent from the way the younger man spoke about them, and the way his brow furrowed recalling details, that he'd never actually met any of them. It confused him for a while, why he would not introduce the two, but Piers' explained it away by telling him he didn't really have down time which meant he never spent time with Chris outside of missions. Somehow he'd doubted it, but if Piers' didn't want to broach the subject he wouldn't force him. After Claire, it was what had happened to Leon. He remembered Leon instantly after talking about Virginia and still it seemed he'd kept his second apart from that part of his life as well. He knew Piers was rough around the edges, by why on earth would he never introduce him to anyone was beyond him. Chris wound his fingers around the straps of his own gear, examining the thick, tightly wound fibers made for clutching all those life saving materials to his body. He wanted to pick it up and be instantly familiar, but he wasn't. His muscle memory recalled how to put it on and where, and instantly his dexterity set to snapping every clip and buckle into place, deft large hands sliding clips into their slots, first aid prays, adrenaline shots, his combat knife. It took him less than sixty seconds to set everything to right and after looking at the mags that were set in place and his weapons splayed out on the table beside him it became painfully obvious he could shoot, that much was clear. He hadn't needed a reminder. Chris was a pointman. Best in the business. He chuckled running his hands over the materials, pads catching on the tough fabric until he realized that he had put all his rigging on without a tactical vest, slowly raising his eyes from off his own chest to where Piers sat motionless at the side table, fighting back laughter.

"What the hell is so funny, Nivans?" Sure he was wearing the upper rigging of his combat gear without a shirt, and he was sure it looked out of place, but he wasn't certain it had warranted that kind of response. Chris snorted, his nostrils flaring out of frustration as he set back to taking them off, noting how hazel eyes were boldly locked on his tightly muscled body. "When did we start sleeping together?" The question was meant to make his partner stop his pitiless laughing into the oil rag he had clutched in his left hand, but it had served to further his obvious amusement. "What!? Obviously we are, I mean you can't deny that after all the shit we just went through. You are the worst fucking partner on the face of the planet you know that? I'm trying what you asked me to do, the least you can do is answer my questions."

"You mean because you seem to keep coming back to the same thing?" Piers was painfully aware that Chris seemed at a loss for why it seemed that he was so comfortable letting Chris use his body like an amusement park, but then, answering his question was harder than it should have been. Chris had either forgotten the first time they'd met, or chosen never to mention it again because after it happened they had both seemed to have decided it best not to say anything.

Chris snarled, turning away from the relaxed form of mockery before tearing at the straps that covered his chest, fighting back the urge to put his meat-hook of a fist through the younger man's teeth. Fingers found his shoulder easily enough, stilling him with the greatest of ease, slipping over each clasp and removing them before turning Chris to face him. "I'm sorry Captain." There was that same forgiving expression on his partner's face, the one he was beginning to resent for all he was putting him through, but he permitted softer calloused hands to pull away the final clasp about thickset abdominal, freeing his body from the uncomfortable fabric, leaving red lines in his skin where it had rubbed against the flesh. Watching the younger man's head drop back against his own shoulder blades, Chris fought at the instinct to reach out and touch him, ignoring how he'd felt about striking out at him. It seemed to be a chronic thing with them. Either he wanted to hit him with every fiber of his body, or the feeling was promptly removed by the urge to tear off every fragment of his clothing and throw him into the shitty mattress this place provided. Chris was a man of action, even drunk he'd manhandled Piers without a second's thought, why was he so concerned about claiming those perfect bowed lips now? "Capt-

Crushing his lips into Piers' softer mouth, he cut off his protests by throwing him back on the bed creaking under the younger man's weight, craning his head to the side at the liberal actions Chris had decided to take against him. Lowering one knee between the sniper's parted legs, the mattress bowing beneath them, as he settled his thick set body over him, one fist on either side of the man's head. There was only a second's protest before hands were struggling with each other, Piers' arching up from under him as their lips meant again, claiming the sniper's complaints and forcing them into a black hole. It was obvious the younger man couldn't keep himself off Chris and it was thrilling to know he could drive him so quickly to the edge of his natural reflexes and forget his inhibition. The broader soldier watched hungrily as Piers yanked away his upper layers of clothing, breaking their kiss only to toss the cheaper cloth aside, Chris' mouth already covering his partner's and running his tongue over his soft lips, chuckling as the man beneath him parted his lips.

_Droning undertones__ of sadness continued like a maddening lament. Shared pain was always the way to tame soldiers, but he kept returning to how bored that kid looked. Who went to a U.S.O. program and managed to look that pestered by everything involved in it? Eventually the thrum of the microphone died down and they were released from ranks as the president's final words were meant to rest in their all so moved hearts. Men and women mingled in the crowd of gathered soldiers, circulating as they exchanged stories and laughs. Piers nodded his head to the occasional passerby, ignoring the lingering looks from younger women, and the more brief looks from the men. He was no stranger to attention, but he held no interest in conversing with the surrounding soldiers who used exaggerated hand gestures to accentuate their tales of woe. As he finally made way to the back of the huge crowd, there stood the man he curiously discovered just before the President spoke. He didn't look or act like any soldier he had encountered; no uniform, a slumped posture, however, he did notice the size of the man, a brutish specimen. He had the look of a tough son of a bitch. Humor danced behind hazel eyes, flicking once over Chris' attire before snapping back to his chiseled features, raising his brow with a mild disregard as he tossed aside a traditional hello and replaced it with something more fitting. "Don't make uniforms in size gorilla do they? Lose someone to second-hand smoking?"_

_That cocky son of a bitch. Chris regarded the kid with a hardened gaze from beneath his prominent brow, casually flicking the ashes from his cigarette down against the little soldier's boots. You're thirty-five years old Redfield, let it go. Clearing his throat under his breath with a grunt, he took a step forward and stood directly in front of name-tag designated 'Nivans.' Just another kid with an attitude. "Joker, huh? I'm here on business, Nivans. If you're looking for a new toy to match those fancy blues, I'm not the march of dimes."_

_"Just one of their charity cases?" Just over twenty and Piers might have had the inhibitions of a teenager. Anyone standing half a foot short of Chris with any intentions of surviving, might have thought a second or third time about addressing him at all, let alone sharing his petulant urge to leave this place with a fight in mind. He'd been given orders before on the matter. He had a tendency to start fights and his commanding officer would finish them, but no one was there to stop him from getting into it with this guy. And from the amount of time it took his voyeur to respond with Piers had a feeling he'd already struck a chord. "You might want to ask them for a bigger shirt," he nodded with a slight jerk of his head clenching his jaw the slight curl of his lip tugging up. "Or some different pants. I think those are meant for human beings."_

_"Got a habit of staring at peoples pants? Or is looking at my crotch your way of getting through these hard times?" Rotating his large shoulders, his expression grim as always, despite the tone of his voice or the words he used. It was obvious that the kid was either incredibly brave or soft in the head. Chris had punched and moved a boulder larger than himself after being in a plane crashing into a volcano, this kid was like a twig with lips._

_"Hard times? I'm sorry pal but you aren't my type. Particularly since I go for the human kind, not into bestiality." Piers was fighting hard not to smile at the fact that this guy either wanted to set that up or hadn't played the game of smack talk in three decades. It was obvious even behind Chris' furrowed brow that he had the fight in him to continue, but how long it would take before one of them either hit the other or bust out laughing was beyond him. "I can recommend a good place though, the zoo is down the street. Maybe they'll take you in with the help of your 'marching dimes.'"_

_"I know your type. Let me guess, your specialty is dropping the soap so all the other kids get a shot. That where the attitude comes from? Taking it one too many times while looking for a good time? I can just see those lips pouting after writing a Dear John letter to the other backstreet boys at home. No cuddles in the military."_

_"Really? Five minutes and you're thinking about me naked? Takes some imagination to peel the uniform off that quick. Course when its been so long for guys like you I'm sure it starts to hurt thinking about my lips. Then again, in those pants... I'd be careful about who I was envisioning in the shower." Honestly Piers was pretty enough to have his pick from any one of the girls that presented themselves to him, but he was married to his job and as much as he dished out, in actuality it had been some time since he'd even thought of another person that way, the direction their banter was leading them though he couldn't help but let his mind wander back in to what it was like. Despite the trash talk, though Piers had a hard time envisioning Chris being anything but straight. He wasn't a bad looking guy, and it was more fun seeing if he could fluster a man like that. The military jaded men to anything akin to bedroom talk for the most part, but it didn't stop them from throwing it around at each other as a means of getting under each other's skin. Chris obviously wasn't just any branch of the military though, and who knew if he could push his obscenely buttons. He'd seen the staunch clinched jaw, the narrowed searching eyes before. He was a son of the U.S. Military, high ranked officers in or out of uniform stood out like a sore thumb, particularly ones pretending they weren't. It made it all the more fun to see how far he could push things._

_Squinting his mahogany hued oculars, Chris couldn't help but see a little bit of himself in the kid. In truth, he was undeniably easy on the eyes, but he wasn't the type of man to simply come out and say it. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he blew a small cloud of smoke against the kids forehead before speaking. "And back to my pants. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're doing your best to get me out of them. You might be surprised at my imagination after the things I've seen. There's more going on in the world than loonies in turbans. More than your dainty little head could imagine. As for what's in my pants? Consider that another thing you wouldn't be able to handle."  
_

_"Pal, you'd be surprised how much I can handle." His tone hinted everything under the sun was fair game as he let his cocksure smile slip over his features, narrowing hazel eyes giving Chris an obvious once over, slowly dragging his eyes over Chris like a study. He leaned his weight back onto his heel to tap his other toe on the ground, knocking of the grey ashes that were the only mark on his uniform, unphased by the brute huff of smoke in his face as he brought his eyes back up to Chris' face, lingering almost too long on his jaw-line before chuckling, under his breath, broken up with a slight shake of his head. His tongue dart out once over his lips to wet them against the biting air, letting his near golden orbs dance between the remaining soldiers, watching the people who were not so subtly observing the stand still between the two, seeing how much of their conversation would go unnoticed. No one could hear the rather lewd suggestion that slid along on that statement or how it rested uncomfortably between the two of them waiting to see how well Chris would take it._

_Unlike the brazen young soldier, who paused to pan his gaze across those who curiously kept eye on the two, Chris simply hadn't given a shit who laid eyes upon him. There wasn't a man breathing in the entire horde of soldiers gathered that could stand toe to toe with him. It wasn't conceit, or over-confidence, it was the fact that years of punishment hammered against him by inhuman creatures hardened him, never again would he be afraid of taking a beating. Whilst Piers seemed to study his clean shaven, masculine countenance, those deep mahogany eyes of his stared right back down into the kids face, focusing upon those cupid's bow shaped lips of his. "Is that right? A military brat with a Jesse James complex." Lifting his brawny arm, his hand moved against the nape of Piers' neck, a possessive squeeze given as he gave a yank forward, he had the strength of a beast, and his mountainous biceps flexed beneath leather sleeves as he gripped the young man's slender neck. Piers had tensed immediately under his touch, clenching his jaw and fist at the same time despite how quickly color came into his face. His visage nearly pressed against the younger man's cheek, and he could smell the clean scent from the kid's flesh, the scent of shampoo in his hair. His voice dropped, speaking in a quiet, guttural tone from the back of his throat directly into Piers' ear. "I'll decide what you can handle, __**soldier**__, and from where I'm standing? You couldn't handle a dick if it slapped you in the face." While he had pulled the young man forward as a show of intimidation, a spare key was clandestinely dropped into his breast pocket. With Piers' back to the crowd of soldiers, it would have gone unnoticed. Holding onto the nape of his neck for a long moment, he finally released him as he stepped forward, easily shouldering past the young man as he spoke. "Blue Ribbon hotel, after you're dismissed. Be punctual."_

"I can't believe you fucking said that to me... and I asked you to come to my hotel?" Chris ran fingers through longer strands of hair, fascinated that they were just long enough that he could clutch them in his fist and yank back his head. "Huh..." The memories had flood back to him the moment he'd throw the kid back into the mattress, it was a sweet reminder. Chris had been the one to start their relationship, at least he'd been the one to antagonize Piers into meeting with him. The idea that Piers had had the balls to walk up to a man like Chris and immediately start in on him gave him a strange surge of pride for the kid he'd picked has his partner, and he couldn't help but gnaw on the flesh just under his jaw, sucking on the flesh hard enough to leave a mark. "Did you ever come?" He growled the last of the words, running his tongue over his jawline making his skin jump. It was a loaded question, but at the moment there was no way he could answer, even though he was sure of it that Chris was going to make him relive every moment of the embarrassment that heated his face. Man of action or not he understood how to tease Piers' physique to the point of begging and he would until he admitted what had happened after that keycard had so slickly dropped into his overcoat pocket. "What happened Piers?"

* * *

**I love flash backs, ore over I love when Chris takes things into his own hands. So many questions about these two and so little time. BWAHAAHA! Nivanfield forever! Anyone with a suggestion on what they want to see is more than welcome to say it, can't hurt! I take what people say seriously : ) And thanks for reading fans!**


	7. Interrogation

**Happy New Year Readers! Hope you enjoy all the fun afforded to us for this wonderful day off. Don't worry, your patience will be rewarded!**

* * *

Gripping with unrivaled pressure at Piers' hip, Chris examined his body, waiting for his answer all the more entertained by how his subordinate fought to feel something other than empty space over his body. It was almost beautiful to the older man, the way those fatigues hugged his hips, just the slightest bit lopsided from being thrown into the mattress, his muscles in his legs flexing as he shifted his heel to support his weight, pressing his hips up only to find Chris had a perfect grip him. He wasn't going anywhere, and it thrilled him to see how helpless his partner was. In every memory of Piers he'd ever had, the boy was capable of everything ever needed. If he was asked for something in the field it was done without a second command, cleanly and efficiently. He'd forgotten how taken with him he'd become. His fingers ghosted over waton flesh ellicting a gasp from soft pouted lips as the tips of his fingers wandered the space over his sternum, slowly down tone and sculpted abdomnials, letting the pad of his thumb dip into his naval and the futhur passed roughly grabbing the other side of his hips, to shove him further up the bed. Sheets and blankets came with him, kicking off persistent boots using the edge of the bed, his fingers quickly finding the remaining straps on his waist and fighting with them as Chris stood over him, watching frantic fingers slipping in and out of loops as he himself slipped his jeans down, kicking them off to the side, enjoying Piers ragged breath.

_"What am I doing.." Muttered the brutish Captain to himself as the door to his hotel room was pushed shut with one muscular arm. Fishing into his denim pocket for the room keys, they were dwarfed in his brawny palm as he tossed them upon the nearby wooden bureau. A _**_clank_**_ noise broke the silence of the room as they landed in a glass bowl. Heavy booted footfalls made way across the room as he nonchalantly reached out to smack the bottom of his fist against the radio placed bedside. As the power flickered on, 'Renegade' by Styx played from the speakers. While the rock music played, his thick shoulders rotated backwards in a shrug, the leather jacket was pulled from his arms as his chin, which already began growing a five o'clock shadow, tilted downwards. Near the radio, a finished bottle of tequila had been planted. To remedy this dry spell, 2 bottles of Jameson whiskey wrapped in brown paper bags were placed upon the table top of the bureau._

_Deep brown eyes peered from beneath his brows as his strong fingers gripped at the fabric of his turtleneck, pulling it upwards. As he moved, the fitting denim jeans shifted against the girth of his thighs, the belt that held them up loosened a bit as they hung from his hips, the muscled V-shape leading down to his crotch in plain view as the muscles which bulged from his washboard abdomen were exposed. As he pulled the turtleneck up and over his head, his massive pectorals briefly tensed along with his mountainous biceps._

_Reaching up to rub the back of his bare neck, he grimaced quietly as the song faded, and he reached to change the station, 'One Man Army' by The Prodigy played. It had been a long day, and as he reached to grip the bottleneck of the tequila nearby, he gave a tilt of his head and a grunted as he tossed the empty bottle into a nearby wastebasket, the sound of cracking glass following. Sitting upon the neatly made sheets, he bent down to untie his boots, pulling them from his feet one by one, balling up the white socks covering his feet and placing them with the boots which were placed at bedside. Large hands pressed to his knees and shoved off as he stood up, reaching down to unbuckle the dark belt through the loops of his denim pants, pulling the zipper down. Pushing the jeans down his impressive legs, kicking them off without a shit given, he now remained only in a pair of black boxer briefs, accentuating the bulge between his thighs and his rock-hard ass. As the sun outside the window began to set, he sat back down upon the edge of the bed, resting his sculpted forearms upon his knees while his elbows bent, his head tilted down._

_There was no denying the pent up frustration within the B.S.A.A. operative, even the veins in his forearms and biceps were a testament to his physical tension. Chris doubted the boy, 'Nivans' had the balls to actually show up, and he would eventually expect a hotel worker to come to his door with the spare key. "Kid's better off being a goddamn pencil pusher." Those brown eyes began to droop beneath heavy lids as he slowly scooted back against the sheets, his muscled limbs splaying out as his head laid back against the soft pillow, and he stared expressionless at the fan above him while it twirled, and suddenly he remembered the blades of the helicopter which extracted him from the Kijuju volcano. Before he knew it, his head had tilted, and a deep snore rose from his chest as he laid there in bed._

"You know there are advantages to wearing jeans Piers." Chris was pleasantly free of his own pants within seconds where he knew it bothered his partner to have to remove the rigging still attached to his thighs. The sight of him made the bulge in his last remaining fabric strain, his body completely tensed from leaning his weight forward off the bed to unsnapping each piece. He smirked deciding it was unnecessary, gripping his wrists with dead accuracy even as they flew over the mag holders on his thigh, yanking them up over his head. "You just appearing you know that? You think I have a problem with disappearing, but you...," his words drifted off when hazel eyes caught him, just the briefest of stares that granted him access to see the happiness that played behind his eyes, leaning forward and claiming his mouth with a slower kiss. Everything was fast and deliberate with Chris, but after what had happened between them, Chris couldn't help but want to savor every taste of Piers. "You appear one day while I'm trying to work and you completely stole my fucking senses you know that? And then three months later you appear again in my office, like you hadn't stood me up just a few months ago, asking for a transfer to the B.S.A.A. And now here, you are just there in the bar..." His tongue and teeth drew a line over Piers jaw, sucking on the olive colored skin, relishing in the tiny moans that came rasping from his throat. "I can't believe you never showed."

"Ca...," His voice stuck momentarily while the leader of his team continued to work the side of his neck, rolling the hem of his fatigues and boxer briefs all in one go, down until they were caught by the two remaining straps from his rigging, holding them in place over his mid thigh. It gave him perfect access to the body below him and trapped his partner. "I didn't stand you up." His eyes rolled back, letting his heavy lids close while Chris nibbled and kissed his way back to his mouth, lowering his weight over Piers, much to his own chagrin a bit annoyed with how he hadn't removed the last of his own remaining clothing, listening to how his partner's voice seemed far more secure than how his body reacted. But Piers hands were already pushing down under the waistband on Chris' well muscled hips, seeking the heated flesh beneath. "I showed up about two hours later captain..."

_What the __**hell**__ just happened?_ _Piers stared at his toes, eyes wide, his neck still remembering the traces from the sudden assault on his pale skin. He'd gone sheet white thinking about what had transpired. Anyone __f__rom his unit could tell you that Piers had the ability to escalate any given situation without half a thought just by using those witty little banters, but he'd never imagined it would wind him up in a hotel room. Particularly not to the room of a man who could have easily put his teeth through the back of his head if he'd wanted. He still wasn't certain that that wasn't what he was going to do. The nape of his neck was on fire where those calloused fingers had drawn over his flesh trailing just over his hairline even though the chilled air was claiming victims everywhere else. Piers hadn't been with anyone in years. Almost since he'd joined up in the military, which __might__ beg the question why he'd get in a pissing match with a man who dwarfed him in muscle mass by almost two fold, but the answer was so simple. Because it felt damn good that's why. As he'd pulled him __closer__, Piers could feel his radiating body heat and fought against the shiver that coursed through him when he fe__lt__ the way he'd breathed in Piers scent __almost like__ prey. It had been almost three years __for him__, but the second Chris Redfield laid hands on him it felt like __they had stood there an eternity. _

_It wasn't like he was new to the game, he wasn't a rookie anymore. With how he looked, he'd been getting come hither looks from both sexes his entire life, and snarky off__-__handed comments from the guys about his mouth since he joined the military, but that was a far cry from what had just happened. He'd literally allowed his smugness to talk him straight into something he wasn't sure he was capable of. That didn't mean he didn't want to. Physical contact was a rush, particularly with someone that could so easily dominate and twist you. Three years in the U.S. Military in Special Ops and Piers knew very well the few limits he had. It was difficult to find a person that could send a shock through his body like that one and walking away from that wasn't an option. Piers had been with men before, __it was just another challenge he was willing to take, but the __furthest__ he had ever gone was ending with a mutual blow job. It felt good, good enough he was completely willing to allow another guy access to his body, in honesty it was less what he wanted, and more what he needed. __Inhibitions aside, if Chris had lingered any longer he would have broken all regulations entirely and reached out to grab the strained fabric between his legs just to see if he could claim he caused the same reaction. He was still surprised he'd had it in him not to move as Chris dragged him forward on the balls of his feet. Even the breath on his cheek while he spoke had been enough to make him curious what it would be like to taste the nicotine on his lips._

_Despite how poorly Piers could maintain concentration, the ceremony continued without a hitch. He had thought it was difficult before, but for the next hour and a half he let himself finger the keycard in his pocket every chance he got, contemplating just how reckless he could afford himself to be. Still, in the end it was an order not a request, and who was he to deny the chain of command? He'd put one foot in front of the other and found himself standing unable to move, his eyes locked on the not atrociously shabby hotel entrance, looming over him, as though its foreboding was likely to have him turn around now on hard rubber heels and walk away. He'd done too much thinking on the way here that now there was nothing left in his mind to think about, just a blank slate and a pathetically obvious awning that red 'Blue Ribbon' in swirling longhand. People had passed him by, some giving a short sweet salute that went unnoticed, and others offering to help him find what he was looking for._

_As to the answer to that, he was hardly willing to ask. 'Hi, I'm looking for Captain Chris Redfield. He ran into me at a charity event and asked me over for a booty call, could you kindly direct me.' Yeah... that plan went well. His fortitude had held up solidly until now, concern and caution thrown to the window in replacement for the thrill it gave just entertaining the idea that he had received an offer like that, not only from a man like that, but from captain of the B.S.A.A. It wasn't as though Chris knew who he was, and that made it all the more captivating, knowing he knew everything about the man in the room upstairs and Chris knew nothing about him. The younger man let time stand still in his mind, fingers casually playing through his short hair, feeling the tawny locks slip shorter as he moved the back along his scalp, through his deft fingers until they came back to the place that he'd been wrestled by. His hand snapped back to his side as though someone had slapped him, wincing despite himself at the brief remembrance of what had happened not too long ago. It was a sweet reminder, the heat that rose from that place, and it brought color to his cheeks, making his grateful for the chilled air that whirled about him, biting at the rest of any exposed skin._

_He'd asked for this. He walked up to the man and started the banter, it wasn't his fault how it had turned up and it certainly wasn't as though he couldn't turn around and walk away; forget the way those dark eyes had promised almost everything to him in a gaze that had perhaps only lasted a few seconds but was still burning into the backs of his own hazel irises. At last the doors swung open for the bell hop and Piers slipped passed him, gliding between the cart and the frame of the door like a ghost, stopping uncomfortably at the desk for a woman all to pleased to gaze at the growing heat in his face. Words passed between them, but for the first time in his life the young sniper was curious if he'd lost all his confidence entirely when she pointed to the elevator, amused by his inability to meet her eyes, and fixing only on the oceanic blue of her blazer. She was probably certain he was looking at her chest, but he'd counted three round brass buttons and fourth missing just under the edge of the desk while she shifted with a giggle. He was reminding himself that there was in no way they knew why he was here, just that he was here to see a friend. Chris may have given him a key, but hell if he'd been kind enough to spare him having to talk to this daft woman to find out which room it belonged to. With the information locked in his memory his heels clacked on the smooth polished marble, perfect form just like the soldier he was, though if a wind blew through the lobby it would have stolen his voice entirely, his gratitude lost while elevator doors closed around him._

_'What the hell Piers. Just give the guy his key and apologize. This is the worst idea on the planet. He probably won't even remember you in a few hours. Do you really want that?' His mouth twisted at the idea of leaving but somehow staring at the reflective sleek white keycard between his fingers he reminded himself just who he was. Flipping idly around each digit, he let himself smile enjoying the brief silence that the elevator car provided him to recollect himself. What on earth was he so fucking scared of anyway? Flicking the card up and around his hand before tucking it securely back in his pocket, he allowed his thoughts to dance back into his reality. The one where his ego was king and he remembered every time he'd made a person uncomfortable just by looking at him. "He wishes." A chuckle stifled to himself as the doors made their obnoxious ping, leaning off the steely back wall and traversing the silver doors, hanging left just as he'd been told._

_His gait returned to normal, his stride as telling as his smugness that he knew himself better than to let a single moment rock him so certainly. He was Piers Nivans. He was the best sniper in the U.S. Military and even if this guy didn't know it, Piers did and it restored all the confidence he'd allowed himself to lose that afternoon. One room, two, three... Apart from that he could handle anything thrown at him. He always had, and at twenty-two he was already known as the best in his field. There was another thing coming if that guy had expected him to turn tail and run. He never ran. Four, five... It wasn't like he hadn't played cat and mouse with a guy before, and the score to date was stacked in his favor. How much bravado can a man have asking a complete stranger to his hotel? The answer to that might have been intimidating, if the guy had known who Piers was, but he didn't, and he wasn't aware of what he was capable of. Honestly neither did Piers, and it was a rush not knowing what to expect. Six._

_White gloved fingers danced, his thumb sliding over the tips of his fingers from middle to pinky before balling up a fist and letting himself smirk, His uniform was constricting so he tapped only twice but the wood thrummed hard under his knuckles and he was sure it wouldn't go unnoticed. He had a key. He slipped it in the tiny card reader attached at the front and watched for the light to turn green before pushing it open, letting the door close itself behind him. Crossing his arms over the dress blues he still donned, he stared with a cocked brow at Chris half sprawled out on the bed, amusement laced in his voice. "Interrupt naptime sleeping beauty?" He needed his cockiness, it was like a security. Chris startled him, but Piers always recovered rather quickly._


	8. Revelation

**Much longer than anything else I've written, but we'll find out why...**_  
_

* * *

_"Nnnh.. Jill-" Chris' hand had been cupped against the soft material of the pillow beside his, squeezing it firmly just as the little shit of a soldier decided to make his grand entrance. Quickly snapping out of his dreamy haze, his other hand reached out to place upon the side-arm holstered on his utility belt, hidden between the bed frame and the table. So this 'Nivans' had a pair after all, who'd of thought? Pushing himself upright from lying prone, his deep brown eyes squinted as they focused through their haze upon the boy observing him in the entryway, giving a hearty chuckle at the sight of the kid still in his dress blues. "Recess out already, boy scout?" Meaty thighs swung to the side until he sat at the edge of the bed, lifting a hand to rub against his scruffy countenance. Shooting a glance to the clock on the radio, he quirked both brows as he peered up at Nivans. "Two hours later. Not bad at all." Standing from his seat upon the bed, he strode towards the ace standing in front of the now closed door. Reaching out with a hand, a dull __**THUD **__causing the door to shudder as an outstretched arm was extended just over Piers' shoulder, Chris once more sizing the smaller man up._

_"No time off for good behavior, Sitting Bull." A lop-sided smirk tugged at the corner of Piers' pillowy lips even as he could feel the door frame behind him shake from the point of impact. Those sharp eyes of his gazed at the thick arm inches from his face, close enough to see the sheen of a cold sweat on Chris' flesh. As intimidating as this guy came off, if he thought Piers' wasn't capable of putting up a good fight, he had another thing coming. Nevertheless, he would play it cool as always and see where it led them__. Lifting the card key to the room, he tapped it against the muscle of Chris' arm a few times, and he swallowed hard at the next idea which came to mind, pushing caution to the wind. ``So, __**Captain**__, this 'Jill,' wouldn't happen to be the very same Jill Valentine who helped form a certain alliance funded by the Federation of Pharmaceutical Companies, requested of course by the very same U.S. Government you seem to piss o-..`` Suddenly, his words were choked in his throat as brawny fingers wrapped around his throat, and the back of his head was pressed against the door behind. Just by the color in Chris' cheeks, he knew what this was. A bad idea._

_Although pissing off Chris Redfield wasn't entirely too hard a task, the potential compromise of any of his partners was stepping over the line. Every muscle in Chris' body seemed to flex as he lifted the younger soldier off of his feet, staring directly into him with hardened eyes. "You know the meaning of 'personal accountability,' you smurf-looking little fuck?" Lips were tight as he felt the soft flesh of Piers' throat beneath his fingers, and teeth clenched. He did his best to remind himself not to lose it, a soft wheeze of air trying to force its way passed his grip, causing him to tilt his head down briefly, expecting to cool down in a few moments. What he didn't expect, though, was the feeling of legs suddenly wrapping around the back of his head and around the arm choking the kid, tightening a hold like a python. He couldn't believe it, the pretty boy was actually going to lock him in a triangle hold. It was a standard hold taught to soldiers, and it was meant to cut the blood flow from the brain, but thinking about it was getting difficult with how impressively tight it was. Ironically, his face was being pushed towards the kids crotch, and his face grew beet red. Growling from the depths of his chest like a beast, he pulled Piers' away from the door by his throat. If one of them was going to be choked out, it sure as hell wasn't going to be Chris Redfield._

_Piers reached to clutch at the leg wrapping around the muscular neck of Chris, his free blue clad leg attempting to hook around the ankle of the other. This was a man who was his superior in rank, he could lose his entire military career, but he wasn't a bitch, and self-defense was as natural as his smugness. As he was pulled away from the wall, his inner thigh attempted to tighten around that throat, but damned if it didn't feel like he was trying to choke out a statue. Clinging to Chris carefully, the man held him up with one arm as he latched, and his throat was still being constricted, try as he may to remove it with his free hand. There was no way he was that strong, even despite the stories he'd read of Chris' exploits in the B.S.A.A. Suddenly feeling himself lifted higher, his head brushed against the ceiling as he tightened his grip as hard as he could, hearing Chris' breath hitch in his throat. Then came what could only be described as a nightmare, he felt a drop, but he gasped for air as the hand around his throat was released, now pressing against his chest? Soon enough, he found out why, and even though he attempted reaching for one of the bottles in the brown paper bag to use as a weapon, it was to no avail. He fell, hard and fast. Anyone renting a room nearby or downstairs would hear what could only be described as a piece of furniture being dropped, and that hand against his chest was meant to slam his torso into the floor. Landing unceremoniously upon the back of his neck and shoulders, the landing nearly knocked him out._

_Chris had enough from the punk soldier, and so he would teach him a lesson not soon forgotten. Slamming the kid down into the floor, the legs in dress blues loosened as Piers' was left arching his back from the impact between his shoulder-blades. Stumbling backwards, he reached out to press his hand against the wall near the bed, steadying himself from the prolonged lack of proper airflow__. His bare pectorals heaved as he caught his breath, regaining his balance before he took a few steps to the fallen soldier, reaching down and gripping him by the ankle, turning and dragging Piers' body towards the bed. Honestly the kid hadn't faired half bad, if Chris wasn't a monster he would have passed out. Sitting down upon the edge of the bed, his thighs spread as he hoisted the kid up far enough so that the back of his head rested upon Chris' inner-thigh. Reaching to grasp one of the bottles of Jameson from the nearby table, the brown paper bag around it was easily ripped away. "Relax, kid. That's not why we're here. I've got just the thing." Glancing down, he could see the occasional grimace upon Piers' face as his head looked limp, simply trying to snap out of his daze. Chris reached for the bureau and opened a drawer with tiny brass handles, snatching up a shot glass and setting it down nearby, easily opening the bottle of whiskey, letting it settle for a few moments before pouring a full shot._

_ "Just.. about, taken.. way harder." Piers' eyes fluttered open and blinked as it slowly came back to him. Chris Redfield had lived up to the legend, but in not the way he would have liked to have discovered. Chris couldn't help but snicker at his snarkiness considering what he'd just faced. Still not quite sure of his position, he felt something firm and warm behind his head. Wanting to shift, he turned his head to the side in an attempt to find a more comfortable spot, and suddenly his face pushed directly between Chris' thighs, the warmth of his crotch felt soothing against his face as it was nestled against the boxer briefs covering the thick bulge. This hadn't been the first time Piers Nivans found his boyish face against a warm cock, but never in a situation like this. He felt a familiar large hand against the back of his head crush his face into that crotch, and groaned against the boxer briefs at the smothering, before the hand released long enough for him to suck in a sharp breath, his pretty mouth briefly left agape. Hearing Chris mutter something with a chuckle, the strong hand moved to the top of his head, tilting it back against his thigh before the hand moved to tap against his baby cheeks. Before Piers had the chance to close his mouth, suddenly a splash of whiskey hit the back of his throat, followed by a hand clasping over his nose and mouth, and all he could do was swallow. Immediately, the whiskey seemed to bring him out of his haze, sputtering once the hand let go as his eyes blinked open again, this time with a certain clarity to them._

_"Ugh.. is that the best you've got?" Stammered the young sniper as he could still feel the whiskey lingering in the back of his throat. Although Jameson had the reputation of a smooth whiskey, whiskey itself could hardly be described as smooth to a lightweight. By then, the captain above him had already downed nearly 4 full shots from the bottle. Shortly after, that strong hand moved to grip the top of Piers' head once more, but before the shot could be fed to him, he lifted a hand to grip the shot glass, inhaling a deep breath before he took it himself and downed the shot. Heat began to simmer within his stomach as his cheeks soon became flushed, and Chris filled the shot glass again as quickly as it had been emptied. Eventually, after a few more shots, Piers' entire body felt as if it were blushing, and he snickered quietly as he lifted a hand to smack upon the bulging knee of Chris, trying to push himself up to his knees. Firm flesh beneath that hand, he looked down upon the thigh and found himself admiring the musculature of it's shape. Splaying his fingers, the tips began trailing up the top of the large thigh as he gave that half-cocked smirk of his._

_Professional inhibition abandoned Chris as he planted that shot glass upon the bedside table just as one would slam one down upon a bar top. Lifting a hand to briefly rub the back of his own neck, his glazed, deep brown eyes found themselves staring at the pretty boy kneeling in front of him, facing his hips. It was easy enough to put two and two together. Clearing his throat under his breath, pondering over ideas which manifested themselves physically. While those black boxer briefs of his left little to the imagination, nor did they hide the rising cock which began to strain against the material of the boxer briefs he wore. "You play at talkin' like a man, Nivans.. but my bet is you take it like a bitch." There was no holding back the challenge in the tone of his voice as he reached down to run his hand over the short brown hair of Piers, rubbing over his scalp. That very same hand lowered and hooked the callous pad of his thumb into the waistline of the boxer briefs he wore, stretching them out until the meaty length of his erection sprung free from the confines of its prison. Leaning forward, he stood before the young soldier who knelt before him, looking down upon the kid with a look in his eyes that meant business. Boxer briefs were pushed down his thighs, knees, and his thick calves, until they fell to his bare feet, and he stood before the younger man in all of his bare glory, pushing the bottoms aside by his foot. He wanted to see what was at this core of this young man._

_From the beginning, since he had laid eyes on the Captain by pure happenstance, his nerves had been worked. Piers handled heckling by his peers with little to no care, he would either put them in line by a sharp tone to his voice, or ignore them entirely, but this was different. He wasn't standing before a has-been drill instructor at the end of his military career, barking orders to intimidate new recruits. Matter of fact, he wasn't standing at all, he was kneeling, and he was kneeling before a legend, with an impressive cock pointing at his face. Reflexively, he swallowed, there was no possible way his flushed face could have been any redder, and his hands had still been pressed against Chris' knees to steady himself down upon his own knees. Part of his mind attempted to remind him that he could turn away, stumble out of the room and pretend this never happened, however, he was challenged. There was yet to be a challenge that Piers Nivans wouldn't meet head-on. It was already decided, there would be no turning back from this. Pillowy lips parted as the tip of his tongue darted out to graze and moisten his upper lip, and his also glazed eyes lifted to look up into the Captain's. As they stared into each other's eyes, he lifted his right hand to first graze across the side of the veined length of the cock, the warmth of it seemed to absorb into his fingertips. Wrapping his hand around the fat girth of the base of Chris' dick, he aimed it directly at his own boyish countenance. Never breaking the stare down between the two, Piers leaned forward upon his knees, teasingly rubbing the side of the velvety tip of that cock against his cheek. Nuzzling his face against the cock almost lovingly, he could hear the larger man intake a deep breath as his pouted lips kissed at the side of the pulsating cock. Reaching up with his free arm, his forearm pressed against the bulging muscles of Chris' stomach to push him back towards the bed._

_Nothing else suddenly seemed to matter as he felt Nivans hot breath spill against his rock-hard cock, and as he watched the kid move the tip of his cock across his own face, a strong instinct demanded he should push the soldiers head to the ground to fuck his face through the floor. Instead, his hands clenched to fists and unclenched, his thigh muscles flexing, and he watched the arm press carefully against him, his knees bending as he once more sat upon the edge of the bed. Pearly whites clenched as he felt the tip of Piers' tongue dart out between those fuckable lips, licking quickly and continuously against the bulbous tip of his cock, causing the length of it to bounce slightly in rhythm to the lapping tongue. Lifting his strong chin, Chris tilted his head back briefly as his eyes closed. Part of losing one's inhibition meant that even a skilled tease couldn't keep it up for very long, and slowly, Piers' hand began to pump up to the halfway point of his cock's length, before moving back down to the base. Emitting a groan which rose from the depths of his chest, he watched as those cupids bow-shaped lips of Piers suddenly enveloped the tip of his cock, reaching to place a hand with splayed fingers against the top of Piers' head as the tip of his cock was given a tongue lashing from within that warm, moist mouth, grimacing in pleasure. His breathing slowly increased as the sniper's skillful hand continued to pump up and down, masturbating Chris while those smooth, young cheeks pinched inwards, lips moving up the length of his cock as he could feel his throbbing erection being pulled further into Nivans' mouth._

_Inhaling the scent of sex and musk which filled the air all around him, nearly inebriated him more than the alcohol in his blood. It took a little bit to gain his confidence, but he no longer felt the need to hold back. Wrapping his moist tongue the best he could around the cock in his mouth, he turned his head so that the tip of the cock pressed against the inside of his cheek, causing the outside of his cheek to bulge out firmly, and his kissable lips began milking against the flesh of Chris' cock, his hand with a mind of its own as it quickened in pace, jacking the larger man off as tight fingers squeezed the cock while moving back and forth from the base. He could feel every throb in his hand, between his lips, above his tongue. Inhaling a breath through his nose, his hand stopped pumping against the cock at the base, and his head began to bob back and forth, his cheeks puffing out as his pretty face pushed towards Chris' crotch, the cheeks sucking back inward as he moved back, each time the tip of that cock pressing against the entrance to his throat. Eventually, the surface of his tongue felt the fluid of pre-cum dribbling from the tip of the invading cock, and while in the past he hadn't particularly savored the taste, this tasted sweeter. "Mmmm." Humming against the cock, he blinked quietly as the strong hand atop his head suddenly switched to the back of his head._

_"Unnnhh.. don't be shy, rookie.. it's a cock, not a fuckin' microphone." Moments later emitting a low groan. One muscled arm had moved back to straighten and steady himself in a seated position while the other had rested atop the kids head. "Time for daddy to take over." Leaning forward, both of his brawny hands moved to the back of Piers' head, and without much else warning, he pushed firmly down against the back of his head, grinding Piers' dainty little face right into his crotch while filling his mouth and throat with the entire length of his cock. There was no helping the younger man's fumbling attempts to adjust or adapt, his palms moved to the sides of Piers' head while his fingers moved around the back, getting a firm grip. Shortly after introducing Piers' lips unceremoniously to the base of his dick, his hands began forcefully bobbing Piers' head up and down above his hips. Pushing his head back so that the lips were at the tip of his cock, right before slamming his face back down until sheathing his cock within that tight, vice-like throat. Leaning his upper frame over, his forearms resting upon his knees while his hands greedily moved Piers' head furiously up and down, and there was no rhythm to it, simply a savage face fuck. He could feel the ridged top of Piers' mouth against the velvety tip of his cock before he stuffed it right back down a vice-like throat, and his groans grew louder, more frequent. "That's it.. good boy.."_

_He could feel that familiar strain in his jaw as his full lips working his cock, but the groans from above had been music to his ears. Maintaining pace as his lips worked like a vacuum around the thick shaft, he had even let out a pleased groan himself through his filled lips, before he no longer had control of his own neck movements. Those neat brows furrowed as his eyes clenched shut, his cheeks turning red once more as he could hear the occasional slurp his own mouth made as it was used as a fuck-hole for the Captain looming over him. Reaching with his arms, he took a firm grip upon the sides of Chris' hips while inhaling a sharp breath through his nostrils, gleaming saliva forming at the corners of his abused mouth. It was a huge task to keep up with his own head's dizzying movements, so he couldn't help the few gagging noises which were muffled around penetrating cock being driven down his throat. At this rate, there was no way the captain could maintain his pace without blowing a warm load straight down into his stomach. Grunting each time his head was buried between colossal thighs, his throat swallowed and squeezed around the cock. It was nearly a breaking point in his disobedience, the physical and vocal dominance of the captain above him, and there was nothing he could do. Despite being gagged by a huge dick, the sense of being controlled felt different, almost satisfying. Whether that had been the alcohol speaking, or his own new found lust, he complied as his head bobbed messily upon the captain's erection._

_"NNNNHH... fuck, kid." It was so tempting he could feel it, exploding his load down the young soldier's throat until there was nothing left, but he wasn't done, not yet. A few more pumps given from the back of Piers' head, hands suddenly freed the smaller man's head as his head was moving back, and he swore Nivans' would get whiplash as he swung back, a string of spittle from Piers' pouted and abused lower lip hung from the tip of Chris' lubricated erection. Testosterone-driven lust within his deep eyes, he reached down and gripped Piers' by the collar of his dress blues, hoisting him up and off of his knees, turning to slam him down upon the sheets of the mattress. Buttons were torn and popped in an animalistic fury from the ironed shirt covering Piers' fitting white undershirt, nearly ripping the top in half as he pulled it away from Piers' toned arms. Reaching down to yank up Piers' shirt to his collar, he lowered himself to quickly kiss up the sniper's lean, muscled abdomen, his kisses continuing upward to firm pectorals, before he reached up to kiss at his jaw-line. Just before his lips could reach the younger man's jaw, Piers swiped his own forearm across his mouth to wipe it, and turned his head just in time to catch the captain's lips in a heated collision. Chris paused for a moment, but suddenly hungrily deepened the kiss as their mouths crushed against each other. Chris had climbed on top of Piers, and the two kissed as if it were a competition, finally ending when Piers' caught the captain's lips between his teeth with a nip. In return Chris tilted his head and buried his face into the crook of Piers' neck and shoulder, biting down hard. Chris growled under his breath as his teeth gnawed at the very same throat he had nearly throttled earlier._

_Piers could only attempt to match the feral passion the captain had unleashed, that which most likely had been years and years of built up frustration, and he was the recipient. His arms moved to grip at the bulging biceps of Chris' arms, giving them a squeeze before his hands moved over the larger man's back, his fingertips moving over every curved muscle they could find. Inhaling the scent of alcohol from the captain's breath, his legs were fidgety at the feeling of his own stiffened cock pushing out from the pants he wore. Grimacing at the feeling of teeth digging into the flesh of his neck, it was a pain which caused a boiling from within. His own teeth clenched as his fingertips dug hard into the warm muscles of Chris' back, and muscle was pressed against muscle as their chests and stomach were pressed hard together. As teeth sunk even harder into his neck, he lashed out, an arm extending to the side as a clenched fist hit the open bottle of whiskey upon the bedside table, punching the bottle clear off the table as it landed upon the carpet nearby, the contents spilling out. Afterward, he lowered his head to plant sweet kisses across Chris' broad shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against it as he held on to the captain for a brief moment, simply enjoying the warmth and scent of someone so close to him. It had been too long.  
_

_Even as he bit down hard against the younger man's neck, he could smell the scented shampoo in his hair, a fresh, clean smell. Reaching down, the belt which hugged Piers' blue pants to his hips was unbuckled and pulled aside, still resting on the edge of the bed as Chris slid down, standing hunched over at the foot of the bed, he yanked the material of the pants down Piers' lean legs, pausing to lower his head and bite down against the exposed inner-thigh before his fingers hooked into the waistband of Piers' white boxer briefs, pulling them down and discarding them as Piers' own aroused cock sprung free. Unfortunately for Piers, it wasn't his cock that Chris was suddenly after. Using his strong arms to flip the naked body under him onto his stomach, pulling the younger man down by his hips until Piers' feet touched the ground. Barely paying notice as Piers grasped at the sheets desperately while he suddenly found himself bent over the foot of the bed. Wasting no time, Chris grasped at his own cock which still gleamed with Piers' saliva, and he parted his legs to steady himself behind the boy, aligning his hips with that firm ass. Rolling his muscular neck in a rotating motion, Chris stuffed the tip of his cock into the smooth crevice of Piers' ass, and found its mark as it pressed hard against the puckered hole, earning a ragged gasp from the soft abused lips. Pausing, Chris leaned forward and extended his arm to snatch the belt from Piers' pants, reaching to grip the muscled arms of Piers, yanking them behind his back, he looped the leather belt around his wrists and buckled it, pinning Piers' arms behind his back._

_Taking a moment to look down upon the bent over, naked soldier, Chris narrowed his dark eyes from beneath his brow and resumed the grasp upon his own cock, this time catching Piers off guard as he stuffed the large tip of his cock into that puckered hole, causing Piers to groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. Slamming his fists down on either side of the bed around the smaller man, his hips pushed forward, his slick cock pushing up Piers' tight ass, and deeper it went as Chris pushed himself forward, lowering his head to let out a deep, prolonged groan. He was going to split this brat in two, and he would hear the kid tell him it was too much, he would hear from the kid's own mouth that he couldn't bear it. "Bit off more than you could chew, this time. Just let me hear you whimper that you can't __**take**__ it, Nivans." A few inches of his dick had been pushed up the puckered hole, stretching it while at the same time parting those firm ass cheeks. Chris let out a grunt immediately after he taunted the kid, there was no denying the deliciously tight feeling of pleasure of the muscles in his ass squeezing down around his cock. Doubting the kid would answer him, he began gyrating his hips as his cock slid deeper and deeper into the tight orifice, groaning once more while his hips began to grind against the cheeks of the younger man's ass, a twitch and shudder given by Piers beneath him as the thick girth of his cock moved against the prostate, and his hips kept in motion until he could bury as much of his rock-hard cock as he could up into the kids bowels._

_"I-It.. aaagh." Piers began a sentence in response, but it was cut short by the feeling of a large dick riding bareback deep within his ass. It hurt, like a mother fucker, but the feeling of the flesh moving against his prostate over and over nearly made him feel as if he could cum right on the sheets and his own stomach. His eyes may have been shut, but his mouth was open wide in delightful agony, his arms straining at the bondage of his own belt, causing the leather to creak while his arms flexed, but the belt had been tied well. Tears formed at the inner corners of his eyes, and he gasped hard between the sound of his own broken moans mixing with the man behind him. Finally, he lifted his head from the sheets and growled. "__It hurts**, but I can take it**__." His head fell back to the bed, grinding his face against the sheets as he gasped out another moan, he could feel the searing hot cock push into him with every inch that came, and the slow pace was thankfully stopped as the captain mounting him from behind responded to his words by beginning to pound his hips against his ass. Still unable to move his arms as his body was heaved back and forth, his body sliding against the sheets as his toes curled inward. It did a lot more than hurt, there was burning through his entire body from the feeling of having a man that large pushing inside of him. He hadn't expected that sort of pain, sweat forming at his forehead as he gasped against the bunching sheets, fighting the moan of pain that threatened to give in and beg Chris to stop. Even as the smacking sound of Chris' thighs slapping against his ass cheeks filled the room, the feeling of pain throbbing through his torso was replaced easily as that cock rubbed against his prostate drowning his mind in pleasure and lust, if only he could move his fucking arms. His ass was being bounced against Chris' hips as if there wouldn't be a tomorrow, and Piers gave in to the feeling as the mixture of pain and pleasure pooled in his gut, enjoying every bit of the captain ripping him apart._

_There was no denying that Chris had been impressed with Nivans' response. Aside from having one hell of a great ass to fill, he had guts to boot. Hips moved with a mind of their own as they smacked against Piers' ass, and he reached forward to unbuckle and slowly untie the belt from around Piers' wrists and hands, watching as the kid pressed his hands to the bed immediately, pushing his upper body upwards as he pressed back against Chris' chest, turning his head slowly, and he once more placed his lips against the captain's. As they kissed, Chris wrapped his arms around Piers' sculpted midsection, holding him protectively while Piers reached back to cup his hands over Chris' ass, as if egging his hips on. Chris began to feel a tight knot within the depths of his lower stomach and loins, and he knew what was coming. His hands moved surprisingly gentle along Piers' stomach and ribs before releasing him from his bestial grip, his hips very, very reluctantly moving back as his reddened cock was pulled from Piers' assaulted ass. Turning Piers around to face him, his arms wrapped around Piers' waist, hoisting him up and off of his feet, leaning forward to place him on the bed. Piers rubbed his inner calf against Chris' outside hip as the captain reached down to grip Piers' by the ankles, lifting them and pushing them up until Piers' ass was exposed to the air. Moving to his powerful knees upon the bed, Chris slid forward and reached down with one hand to grip his cock, easily finding the pounded orifice once again, he stuffed himself back into him, but this time, he would face the younger soldier. Leaning forward, Piers had caught his face in his hands and kissed him, and Chris responded by pushing his tongue past Piers' lips, who were only happy to comply. He held Piers' legs up and kept them in the air as his hips pounded, and that knot in his loins returned with a vengeance._

_Laying on his back, his arms freed, he held on to Chris as he could feel that already large cock within him swell, and his eyes closed tightly as the captain never ceased his relentless pace, slapping flesh once more filled the air as Piers had felt himself melt, breathing as hard as the captain, at this point, his ass squeezed down hard upon the invading cock before he moaned loudly, a prolonged groan from Chris' as the captain's entire physique flexed and tensed, and he felt the hot spurts of thick seed bursting deep within his bowels. Leaning forward to press his forehead against Chris', he shuddered and gave a few ragged breaths as the hips pounded against him furiously until most of the cum was spent inside him, and only then did they finally slow down. Piers could feel the perspiration on Chris' toned skin, and he felt himself lower back to the bed as the captain leaned over to catch his breath. Eventually, emotionally and physically spent, the two had laid down upon the bed, Chris upon his back. Piers looked down at him as Chris' eyes had gazed back into his for just a few seconds, before they soon closed. Soon after, the familiar sound of the snoring was audible as the naked captain sprawled upon the bed, just as Piers had found him. Moving to push off of the bed, he grimaced at the pain that racked his body. He looked from Chris to the door, and seemed to ponder long about the options._

_Chris Redfield awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door, a young woman speaking through the door between knocking; "Room service!" Chris turned his head to look at the pillow beside him, the spare room key that he'd given Piers was all that was left of the young sniper. Chuckling under his breath, he called back out to the room keeper, his voice low from the hangover he was going through. "Not right now.. I'll be gone in half an hour." Grumbling to himself afterwards, he lifted a hand to brush across his rugged face, and blinked at the tingly feeling between his arm and his pectoral muscle, as if something had been tucked there long enough to cut off circulation. Rotating his shoulder, his squinted eyes looked back and forth, finding a tipped over shot glass upon the bedside table, along with a cracked bottle of whiskey on the floor near the table, a bit of whiskey soaked into the carpet. He doubted he would ever see 'Nivans' again._

"Fuck... that was you...," Chris head reeled remembering the tiny details of the way Piers had immediately taken to him. Even though Chris had torn him to pieces and he probably had to walk out of there with less clothing than he had to begin wih, the younger man had taken it and rather than fighting him had urged at every instant of making it more intimate than it was. His kisses were passionate and vicious, but they were sweet, and the moment he'd released him he had managed to get himself in a position to look at his captain. "You never told me that was you..." He met lust hazed eyes, but there was a sort of sad smile behind them before he arched himself off the bed at his elbows, lips catching Chris again. His pillowly lips were urging, reaching up to wrap his arms about Chris' neck, holding himself off the bed using Chris' body as an anchor. "You should have said something soldier." Chris let his hands find Piers' hips, enjoying the warmth of his partner's body pressed against his body. He didn't like that all those years ago he'd taken Piers completely unaware of what he was getting into, but he couldn't help but miss the fingers that had teased his cock only seconds ago. Remembering those lips on him, the soft choking noises he made when his mouth was around his cock, it was like an adrenaline rush.

"I didn't need to captain. If you didn't remember me then it was for the best that we kept it that way. You are my captain after all." The pace they'd been moving at had slowed considerably, and Chris realized it must have crushed his pride to know that a night like that was lost in the drunken haze and post traumatic shit that had taken over his life since Kijuju. Piers had been the first good thing he could remember and even then he hadn't remembered him completely. He could blame it on the whiskey all he wanted, but there was no denying that it was partly his fault too. Letting himself forget. Obviously he never truly had. He had pushed away the memories and marked them not as his partner, but every time he looked at Piers it sent fire through his veins and it was most likely the reason he was sure that the younger man would take what he gave him. Piers was just as addicted as Chris was to drinking, only his addiction was to Chris. "You were my hero Captain... why would I ruin my chance of being your partner by telling you?"

Chuckling, he knew the ace was right but that didn't mean he had to like it. On top of that now that he remembered all those details it brought a devilish smirk to his face. "Did you ever take care of yourself? After I fell asleep?" He knew the answer. Every time Piers and Chris were together he neglected the smaller man and sated himself and he knew painfully well that, pain was the price of pleasure for the man beneath him, holding to him like a vice. There was a small whine at the sound of the question, but Chris ignored it, his thicker fingers finding Piers' cock in his hand, the touch instantly making him jump with a small gasp. The unintelligible moans that resembled his rank tumbling off pouty lips immediately. "You are _such_ a shit..." His voice purred as he rubbed his stubbled jaw against smooth cheeks and slipped to whisper into his ear. "Always taking it like a good boy but you won't stop and touch yourself once in a while. I'm going make you beg Piers, since you never did." The gasping under him told him he was touching Piers exactly how he wanted, the hand between them tightening as he spoke, accenting all his words. "You never did tell me it was too much, that you couldn't take it. I know... what you can take soldier."

Arms released from about his neck, dropping to the mattress below him, arms splayed out as Piers pushed the side of his face silently into the sheets, letting the coolness send shivers across his body, or that was Chris growling over him like a feral animal, his other hand coming up and finding Piers' neck. They tightened instinctively, watching the young man beneath him writhe and muscles flex. The cock in his hand twitched and throbbed from his fingers flying over the flesh, Chris taking in the sight of him and drinking it in. Lord was he beautiful. Was he always so pretty? Leaning forward, clenching the fingers about his neck he felt the gasp in his throat followed by a moan that tore through his body. "My good boy, you know how perfect you look like this? Tell me how bad you want it Piers, how bad you want me to make you come." Piers rarely spoke when they were together, unless Chris pushed him long enough about it and even then they were random little strung together things like a quick 'please' or the way he hummed Chris' rank. He wanted to hear the tenor voice of his tremble and tell him every little thing that would make him come undone. "Tell me pretty boy."

Chris' pace sent a sweat sheen over tan flesh, Piers' biting the tissue of his lips and crushing his eyes closed trying not to think about anything but the fingers bringing him closer and closer. "Captain." He heard a growl from above him and knew that Chris wanted to hear him say it. The man never touched him like this, never touched him without the thought being for what he could do to make his own body feel good. Either way it was like heaven having his captain's hands on him, slowly cutting the breath from his lungs until he remained quiet enough that both hands threatened to leave him. "No!" He just about shouted the word when he felt the threat of leaving him there, ignoring the chuckle that followed. "God Chris, please, don't stop. I need you, please just..," his words died in his throat as white danced behind his eyes, but the moment he stopped talking Chris' hands threatened to cease their pleasing again. "Fuck. Captain, you feel so good, please don't stop. I need you to make me come, please. God, I'm begging you, captain," the words tumbled forced but almost incoherent, hands balling up in the sheets. He was on the edge and Chris had barely had to do anything, he could sit back and watch him like an experiment, and every time he stopped talking all he had to do was stop his ministrations and he had Piers begging him all over again. "Faster... Tighten your hand."

The command had been unexpected, but sweet, Chris complied quickly, leaning down to breath in his ear, "which one soldier?" He knew how hard it was for him to be vocal, but he wasn't asking anymore, he was telling Chris how he liked it and it was thrilling when his trigger hand reached down, grasping the forearm that held the pace between his legs. "Mmm good boy." His words sent a shiver over the younger man and as his fingers tightened Piers tipped his head and cried out, thick fluids seeping out between them and coating over Chris' hand and stomach. He would have chided him for how long it had been since he pleased himself, but Piers was raked, his body gasping and shaking while Chris continued to move his hand enjoying the last moments of orgasm together before he sat back on his heels to look at the man under him. His chest was rising and falling, and pulling his hands away caused brows to knit and hazel eyes to finally open. "Just stay like that..." Chris could take care of himself just looking at him like that beneath him.

* * *

**Yum. For the record, I think my favorite is the belt... what's yours?  
**


	9. Retaliation

Explosions sang a shattered song within Chris' head, the force of impact hurling his battered frame away from the resounding blast, as though he were nothing but a grain of sand against the high tide. Mahogany oculars wearily focused on the vermilion flashes of the flaming holocaust consuming the buildings about them in a dance of death and chaos. His vision played the trickster as wavy wisps of heat swallowed the world around him, harboring him to a safe haven; the hearty chuckle of Barry clear as crystal on an autumn day. Teaching him to quick draw from the hip, and schooling him handily, as always. That memory flickered in his eyes like static on a television screen before reality returned, sound returning as a cruel reminder of his current situation. Chris had told Piers he wasn't ready for this, insisting he wasn't prepared to lead these men into the fray. He was so tired of leading men into the horror of the unknown, and most importantly, the death that Umbrella had caused. Neo or not, he wasn't ready for any of this familiar hatred, he was suffering sensory overload. They had been here for hours that passed like minutes, and minutes that had felt like hours. Migraines eroded everything within his skull, straining his every sharp intake of breath. There was only one justification as to why he had come to this Hell, only one reason his mind could fathom as umbrageous silhouettes of the Alpha team dutifully darted through whistling bullets to their position, after orders he couldn't remember giving. Piers was going to China. Everything about this foreign territory was foreboding, and he couldn't allow Piers go alone. In fact, that younger soldier had spent the entire morning trying to convince Chris that if he couldn't hack it, nothing would be held against him, that he hadn't realized the extent of the damage. Piers spoke from the heart how he'd hoped and prayed for the captain he knew to once more be the point man, that he knew if Chris could overcome his personal ghosts, they could right all the wrongs and finish this war. But the sniper ace was obligated to go, he needed to be with these men and lead the world out of the inferno. Chris? Chris Redfield was a commander, he could never leave him to fight this battle, not alone. Still, after all the events that had happened between them, how could he let his one chance at redemption become another disaster?

Grating sound returned in a disorienting whirlwind, knocking his senses loose until he was gripping his skull with one hand, determined to shake away all of the memories that the pressing heat on his face manifested. A West African volcano, the spitting liquid fire, the death of his longtime rival, one of the world's most notorious villains suddenly taken from the equation and leaving him to finally reclaim his life. Or so he thought. His body mechanically moved, instinctively remembering just what to do in survival situations while the rest of him was still reeling. Clutching the grip of his 9-0-9 and throttling a jabbering J'avo in the other with a death grip. He pounded with explosive force; the grip guard careening into it's skull, embedding pieces of bone into the mesh pattern under his fingers, blood slick and rank clinging to him. Everything oppressively loud, destroying his sense of balance until he felt those finger tips on his shoulder. Thank God for those hands that pulled him back into reality time and time again. They stopped everything from spinning even though Chris' body was running purely on muscle memory and clutched the hand on him to throw it over his shoulder until he stilled himself, pulling his mind back into place where it belonged. Here and now.

"Captain! We need to move out, we're wasting our ammo on these things when they need us to get those people out!"

There was renewed veracity in his bellowing voice, thrumming out over the deafening explosion and into their coms, meanwhile his powerful shoulder yanked from Piers' grasp. "HQ get us a rendezvous point now!" The time it took for them to respond was tensing the blood gushing through his body, his muscles straining as he hefted his shotgun, raising it one handed forward and letting scattered shots rip through the cracked flesh of a body that had once been human, that was running at him with nothing but death on it's mind. It responded with an angry yelp, bloodstained ax clutched in two veined and ruined hands that stumbled its feet and lurched forward violently as the resounding shots took its teeth and brain out through the back of a mutilated skull. "Come on guys we don't have all day, goddamnit!"

_'Roger Alpha leader, rendezvous at Queen of Hearts.'_

"Alpha team, move out!" There was a stern nod, and callbacks from each of his soldiers, moving in teams of two to exterminate all hostiles and threats to their perimeter while cleaning a path toward their predesignated destination, carved in a bloody path as bodies were strewn across the floor, upon broken tables. Chris didn't know he had it in him to be that forceful, to be that dominating in the field of battle as he took aim and fired, this time aiming directly at the midsection of a J'avo dressed in rags as it leapt up onto a table, screaming. What made it all the more eery was the fragments of humanity left in the creature, even when it screamed, anyone could hear it in the voice, that this son of a bitch had once been a person, and the world would never know their real name. Fabric was blown apart as entrails were blown to bits, the figure falling and landing directly upon the back of it's neck, a sickening crunch of it's vertebra audible while it laid there upon the floor, twitching in the spastic throes of it's last seconds of life, if you could call it that. Every shot fired carried deadly accuracy. He was becoming more and more the belligerent man that he had resembled in Edonia. He felt weight at his back, turning with his full weight locked in flexing, bulged forearms, as the back of his knuckles collided with the mutilated face of a J'avo. The cheek and jaw splattering and conforming to shape around Chris' fist, bone crunched and snapped in the whiplash of power, hurtling off to the side. Immediately afterwards they were on the move again, thumping of solid rubber soles beating the pavement while each man covered one another. It was all too familiar, the bittersweet victory of taking the life of an infected human, and over time his mind hardened. Automatic rounds rattled as the shadow of an engorged, mutated arm lifted in the air, it was so unnatural, the things a virus could do to a person, it brought out the insanity of the world as that arm reared to swipe towards one of his men, before half of it's skull painted the nearby wall, a single shot from Piers was all that it took, taking off the back of the J'avo's skull. It almost seemed to grin as it grew limp and crumbled upon the floor, the large arm landing upon the ground, sounding like a sack of potatoes hitting the ground. This was his job, and it was his only purpose in life, nothing else mattered, particularly not those moments spent pretending back at the hotel. If this is where Piers wanted him to be, then he would become judge, jury, and executioner.

Crossing the threshold of fortified doors and windows, Chris heaved himself forward, just the brief break in adrenaline wearing. Deep brown sought furiously for hazel, finding each of his other men in turn to mark their faces, confident to find them still in one piece, counting himself lucky at the security of the building as they met up with one another. Still he found the men of his newly formed unit, but he couldn't find that signature sniper rifle and devoted gaze anywhere. "Where the fuck is Piers, he was lock step in time with me!" He noted them all looking to one another as they attempted a head check, but there was a unanimous unknowing that suddenly sent frantic shocks into Chris as though his stomach had dropped clear out of his body onto the rubble along with all the other debris. "Piers!" His hand flew up to his com, shouting the name over twice, before he turned and clenched his ham bone of a fist, driving it aggressively into the nearby wall, shaking his head while he strained his ears to listen for any noise at all. "Piers, answer me goddammit! That's an order!"

Twisting, Chris yanked back the bars covering the door, he went to pull it with so much force that might have yanked it clean off the hinges, until he heard a noise from the upstairs window, Piers dropping down the stairs like his feet were led weights, his expression was hard to tell as he quickly reached down to reload his rifle frantically. Chris growled as his feeling of concern painted red, anger in his eyes while dropping the bars again and turning into the beast, his sensibilities lost in one single act. "You stupid son of a bitch! Where the fuck were you? You don't answer your com anymore? You want to compromise this entire unit just because you can't use a damn com!? I-" His voice cut out staring at the younger man gasping for air on the stairs, his brow coated with sweat, his eyes winced shut as his body slid further down, bobbing with the dips in each step as his legs crumpled at the base of the landing. "Go clear the rooms upstairs, make sure nothing followed him in, set up if you can, check corners and eliminate all hostiles." Chris waved the other men off sternly, ignoring how they were also dragging, catching their breath for the first time in almost twelve hours. This was a war, not a training exercise, and his determination was ardent as steel. It was as if he were a pit bull looking for the nearest meat to bite into.

Taking a deeper breath within his barrel chest, he forced himself to calm down, watching how Piers was subconsciously nodding to everything Chris was saying even though it was obvious the man wasn't firing on all cylinders. Suddenly all the captain and subordinate pretenses were gone and Chris was there on the stairs with him, running his hands over his each lengthy appendages, checking every splotch and smear of crimson to make certain none was his own. Piers remained still the entire time, just laying there breathing, letting probing hands find every inch they could until he was satisfied with his physical state. He put a hand around behind the back of his partner's head, holding it off the lip of a stair, massaging his scalp with his thumb, feeling the tension in his muscles. He couldn't lose Piers, he couldn't watch his partner fall like that. He'd never seen him so completely out of breath that he was hardly responding to him at all. He couldn't lose anyone, most of all this man. He hadn't even considered that possibility. They were invincible, three years fighting together and Piers always came home with him, but was he the same man Piers remembered him as? Despite his moment of concern, he had been like a bull in a China shop, ready to beat the life and fire upon anyone in his way.

"Sorry captain." His response was quiet, lips parted only ever so slightly while the words slipped out characteristically cool. "I... just got tied up that's all." Honestly, as much as Chris had been griping about not being ready for this, he'd been driving them through the night full steam, giving orders to them at every turn. It didn't even seem to dawn on the man how long he'd been pushing and just what he was telling them to do. He was exhausted, just like everyone else. People can't fight forever, and his body was on the edge of breaking down from the last few endless hours of this fire fight. His legs ached from running so long, from the welts and bruises of knocking back foe after foe when they were close enough to touch, and his arms and shoulders were riddled with fatigue from gun fire. "Chris these men need a break." Chris and Piers were the point men, they went in together, they took the brunt of everything, but still, their men had suffered too.

"What we need, is to get out of here, this is a mission and we're on the clock. Once you catch your breath we're moving out. We're going to get every one of these bastards. I'm going make certain there's no doubt left in any man, woman, or child that we did our jobs. Once we've gotten this place cleared out and we've got the hostages. Once everyone is safe, then we can rest. You think those things out there are catching a breath?" He was starting to get driven only by the thought of finishing this war. Of killing every one of them and freeing himself from Umbrella and all its ilk, he knew once it was done, once hope was returned, he could move on with his life, but what then? Knowing his partner wasn't injured was all he needed before he immediately stood, giving him nothing more than a strong pat on the shoulder before checking the windows. "God knows I've done this enough times. Just get back on your feet soldier and we'll get out of here."

"Chris they need at least an hour. Going in blind is the last thing they need to do."

"And since when do you know anything about it!" It was like poking a bear with a stick, the moment his partner questioned his authority. There was a deep resonating growl that seemed to make the world stand still and silence the noises outside into compliance, turning on him with a glare that could quell lickers into compliance. "Coming from the man that doesn't even bother with his com set huh? Question me again Nivans, lets see how far this platoon gets under supervision like yours. You play at being a captain and fighting along side these men but the hell if you aren't just another face in uniform! We're getting through this mission and we're getting these men home. There is no compromise, we don't do one OR the other, we do both. We're saving those hostages Piers! These men knew what they signed up for soldier. So put up or shut up."

Piers swallowed his voice, wincing and looking toward the wall, clutching his MP-AF tight to his body. Peeling himself off the stairs, reloading with efficiency afforded to him, discarding the empty magazine to tumble to his feet. "Yes captain." He'd known what he was doing bringing Chris with them into China, having him lead these men, having them lead him. They needed a captain capable enough to do the things Chris was commanding them to do, and he was right about it again. There was no time to rest. They had blurred the line between partners and lovers and Piers appeared to be the only one having trouble coping with that. Chris had taken full swing back into captain, Piers was forgetting his place. He supposed it was good that he was getting reamed for talking back, a few weeks ago he never would have said a thing to him about it. Gripping his gun to his chest, he pushed back all the fatigue and pain that lanced through him, giving his captain a swift nod, apologetic without words.

_'Alpha leader, this is HQ, we've got word on the hostages, their location, a tenement house only two clicks from your position, hereby dubbed Ace of Spades.'_

"Alright then... we're moving out."

* * *

**Dundundun!**


	10. Reassurance

"I'm right there with you captain, but your personal vendetta isn't getting us anywhere! We could have prevented some of those deaths." Piers voice raised over the general hush of the alleyway, stepping silently behind his captain, the ringing of gun shots still pouring through his senses along with the death of all their men. First the Iluzija, then Ada... and their last man mutating into a festering into a pile of buzzing pulsing body of insects. The line drew there. They were partner's sure, but Chris needed to hear it, needed to know it, that he wasn't just some uniform chasing him, following him only on orders. He was there for him, with him, side by side to finally rid the world of this shit that had already wrecked so many lives. This had to stop, he had to stop running.

"Shut up..."

"I feel sorry for all the men who died believing in you!"

"SHUT UP!" A tightly flexed arm round housed to come crashing into Piers, throwing the smaller body easily up into the alley wall, hands shoving away at him from the blurred line of desperation and pain. Piers had crossed a line, he knew he had. Hands were shoving at each other, daring to fight back. He was saying those things, but he didn't mean them, he couldn't have. Not after everything they'd gone through, what that woman had done to them. Clenched fists collided ruthlessly with the wall beside Piers' head, bellowing in frustration, the roar bouncing off the alley walls. They were all dead, every one of them dead and here he was throwing around the only one left, the only one that mattered. "How dare you blame me for this, how dare you! YOU of all people!" Chris felt Piers hands pressing the joints of his shoulders, the locked wrists giving a hard a shove as they could muster in retaliation but refusing to look away, and budging the older man only half a step before he threw himself into him. Their eyes were locked, jaw muscles flexing like a battle of titans. Throwing his weight into Piers' slimmer shoulders back against the wall, the other fist met the side of brick with a shutter, breaking a knuckle that he didn't care about, furious that the man under him refused to even flinch, his mouth crashing into parted outraged ones. He didn't want to hear it, he couldn't bare to listen to it knowing how true it was. His partner brought him here, not his personal vendettas, but as soon as they'd arrived he'd started disregarding everything. These men were dead because of him, because of his actions. He knew it without knowing it... Chris was the cause of these deaths, and because his lover was there he had been taking it out on him. Lips devouring each other muffled his silent agony, forcing his way into his partner's mouth, seeking all the heat and attention that he needed so badly. They hadn't been pretending in the hotel, they couldn't have been, not with how he felt wonderful it felt having those reassuring lips pressing with rivaling need into his own.

He refused to move away his mouth away from caressing lips, refused to hear anything more about those men's blood on his hands. He needed to lose himself in this body, remind himself of the reasons that had drawn him here. Teeth bit into pouted flesh, urging a quiet moan from his partner, while hazel eyes squeezed shut, all the tension still visible in his countenance while Chris gripped his biceps up against the wall, his fingers and thumbs exerting so much force into that skin that it was certain to bruise. _Just please stop looking so beaten Piers, stop looking so royally pissed at him_. Of all people Chris couldn't take that. He was stealing breath form the other man's lungs by the time he heard the weapon drop from his partners hands, yanking away the gloves that covered those lithe fingers, weaving them in the bits of cloth that held beneath his tactical vest, hungrily seeking flesh beneath. Just the feeling of those hands on his thick abdomen, caused Chris to shove him back further, bracing while his kiss deepened, tasting all the vehement anger seeping away, returned by tongues massaging each other, pressing their need into each other. He hadn't let him go, but those hands sought warmth, dipping in the plains and valleys of Chris well muscled body, pulling his hips to him, their erections pressed together.

The friction was blissful, powerful and perfect all in one, the captain grinding his hips into Piers, releasing the taut straining arms which immediately entangled around him, holding them closer together and refusing to let go while they had that much time together. Lips finally pulled away despite teeth nibbling his lower lip and trying to bring him back by suckling on the skin of his lower jaw. "Captain..., what I said-"

"Shut... up, just... shut up." This time it sounded nothing like the early shouts of anger, it was a cracked hoarse voice on the edge of crying and dismay. Putting his mouth back to those urging lips, hoping to drown out the world, to silence his conscientious. He could live wrapped in those arms, but his hands were fumbling with his own belt, unsnapping the clasps and furiously pull them aside and tugging his pants open. "Touch me," His lips whispered against his partner's, refusing to say please, to beg him to ground him back to reality even though that's what he truly needed, lost with those dexterous fingers that plunged into his fatigues and pulled his stiffening erection out and palming him easily, swallowing moans into his own mouth. Chris fell into him, pressing every need into the body holding him up, stroking his still hardening cock carefully yet ever urgently. They couldn't afford to be loud here, not with all the death around them, so Chris' gasps and moans stifled happily against the tongue that pushed passed his lips again, tasting the savory flavors of his captain's lust while his hand worked his pointman's arousal to the point of straining, grinding eagerly into his palm.

Piers finally pulled back, his head lulling back briefly before turning in Chris' arms, wrapping them about his toned torso, fingers immediately sinking in to cling to the flak jacket that covered him. Piers silently pulled away the straps about his hips, pushing his fatigues down over his toned thighs, biting the inside of his cheek as he reached back, urging Chris' hips forward into his own. It was a silent act. His hand wrapped about the base of his captain's erection, but the touch jarred Chris and a foot slipped between Piers' heels, kicking them open wider before pushing himself up against that warm ring of muscle between those perfect hips, clutching them close to him. They were slick with sweat and they were too rushed to bother the hurt would come later, when adrenaline wore off and left them unsympathetically tired, but for now... His lips found soft pillowy one's, silencing a long strung moan while he sank inside him, the heat of that tight body encompassing him and groaning happily, growling as muscles clenched around him. Pushing his hips back into larger bruising hands, Piers' smiled against the other's lips, Chris not waiting for further insistence to begin thrusting up inside him.

They didn't have time to be intimate, but it didn't matter, they needed to be. It had to be quick and quiet, but the feeling was dizzying, surrounding him and tearing away the faces of the men haunting him and replacing them with Piers' eyes pulled shut tight to fight the urge to gasp out. "I want you to cum... I want you to feel this," his words punctuated by the thrusts that grew more erratic and deeper until he wrapped a hand around those tightly muscled hips to grip Piers' cock in his hand. This was becoming habitual, fucking Piers in a dirty alley with his fatigues around his legs, but they'd never been like this. Piers never urged him like that, one calloused hand clasped over the one at his hip and the other guiding Chris' to find rhythm around his erection, head dropped against his partner's shoulder, tiny quiet moans prying from parted lips. Flesh slapping together was the alleyway, ramming himself deeper with each thrust, Piers fingers wrapped around his own pumping faster, squeezing around the fist on him as he stifled a groan that tore through his chest and into Chris' mouth to silence himself, pooling in his groin. They were both so close and relishing in the moment, Piers demanding attention as thrusts locked their hips together, groans swallowed by Chris tongue almost choking him while he climaxed, gagging him while hips bucked in his fist, his muscles tightening around his captain enough to cause the man to do the same, thick ropes of cum destroying and making him.

He stayed there embedded inside the younger body, trembling against cold but he was clutching to the larger build behind him as well, those hands still shifting exceedingly against his thighs, holding them there, filled from Chris' orgasm and his member still inside him. "I'm sorry... Chris." Balmy forehead met Piers' strong shoulder, nuzzling into the smooth neck muscles, kissing them as many times as his breath would allow, before turning him, giving a small almost weak shove to him. Swallowing back his fury and angst in that one shove, yanking him forward again by the straps of his jacket and kissing those swollen beautiful lips. Righting himself and his pants, he leaned down on one knee, pulling the discarded gun back up to Piers' hands and tucking his fatigues back about his waist, kissing his hip once while still bare.

"Come on soldier...," standing, off the ground he forced a smile, turning on his heel and instantly allowing himself back into the world around them. "HQ I need a location on Ada Wong..."


	11. Surrender

**Been forever since I've updated this I'm aware, but I don't like rushing this story. It is after all my baby. : ) Piers is about to swallow a bitter pill.  
**

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The slow methodical pang of hard rubber soles on metal resonated in the air, clutching the butt of his MP-AF tight to his shoulder as Piers thought back on the details that brought them here. It was never good thinking backward, but it was all so ironic. He made certain to tell his captain as well, dabbling small talk together while his mind fled elsewhere to the ideas that had brought them there together. Ada Wong's death wasn't expected that was for certain. Everyone had thought Chris would be the one to kill her, sure, but the events that led up to that point, the reasoning it had been done had been robbed from them, and it made that muscled jaw clench, teeth grinding together as his fingers knowingly stroked the outside of his gun reassuring himself they'd done everything possible. Chasing her for so long even Piers had started to think that it was best just to blow a hole through her head with his rifle. She never would have saw it coming until the round punctured her eye and created yet another unidentifiable corpse for the government to sort out later. After catching up in that warehouse Chris had seemed so different, the way Kennedy had spoken to him. Fists up and battling, a backroom brawl ending with their respective guns trained unwavering on one another despite woven pasts or the overwhelming urge his captain had to end this gave of cat and mouse. Their convictions warred, but then she'd bolted. Little minx. Piers had given chase, expecting the war hardened captain to follow suit, instead unintentionally leaving them to argue over who's road they'd choose; which became obvious when Chris had stopped him from loosing a dozen rounds in her direction, instead giving him the pure honesty in those eyes and flashing him that stubble coated jaw, tight line smile that meant the world. It was an affirmation that his captain was returning to the man he had been before, the man he'd known from his past. A curl at the corner of his lips threatened as eagle sharp eyes stared passed a vermilion striped fish on the other side of the glass. They were moving a million miles a minute deep into the heart of the world, and yet they were here, hovering in the darkness together with nothing but the sounds of their boots.

The car chase was long, and it took so much out of them just catching up with that bitch that Piers had imagined the resounding shot that popped that gun from her grasp had actually punctured her cranium, the bullet drowning in blood and taking her teeth through the back of her skull along with brain matter no fit for Frankenstein's experiments. Just seeing the gun in her hand, waved around so care free reminded him of Marco's face as the virus began to its fast paced track to insanity, transfiguring a once irreplaceable member of his team with a hideous monster. He would have been happy to tell the truth, so long as the round that resounded off the skyscrapers wasn't from the 9-0-9 held poised beside him and instead came roaring from his own gun, sparing Chris that indecency. It took doing a double take and affirming the shot hadn't actually killed her to release a bit of the horror trapped their in his lean form, and then that deeper voice, full of conviction pierced the air and told that whore of a woman that she was coming in, they would end this the right way. Tension was finally starting to come down out of that euphoric high that adrenaline provided when a round the size of his fist collided into her middle and took residence in Wong's bowels spattering blood and intestines through her trim bullet torched fingers. They hadn't killed her, but they were responsible for her, another lost target. There was no time to contemplate the crimson painting on the concrete below when her corpse made a collision course with the helipad, just time enough to react and move on to the next task at hand.

The missiles.

An uncomfortable breath trembled through straining lungs and ribs, filling Piers' lean form as he coddled his lover like gun to his shoulder, brushing his fingers along it up and down until he came to the tip, reassuring himself that what had happened with the missiles wasn't a mistake on his part. He still wasn't entirely certain. That woman was trouble even in death. At least Air Force days hadn't gone completely lost on Chris no matter how short his time in the service, because flying that jet was on him when they had taken orders to stop the launch. They'd shot down everything but one and stayed the launch of others, and still, still one managed to get through. There wasn't ever any guarantee they could stop any of them, but Chris and Piers were leaning on each other to end this. The only two soldiers in a mass funeral pyre for the dead that came back to life. It was a shock and awe in itself that that man Leon hadn't died in the blast, but Piers wasn't sure they could take any more hits, not like that. They were losing men everywhere, and losing missions left and right. It was no wonder that this job was considered such a hazard and that Chris hadn't been in a rush to come home to it. They'd been through tough before together, but this, it was fighting a losing battle down hill, and at the bottom of the hill was Hell. They'd done everything they could to stop that missile, Piers appreciated that, but the call that came in seconds later about Jake Muller and Sherry Birkin had detained them yet again from being permitted to return home from this damnable shit hole. They'd done everything they were suppose to, returned hostages, lost men, saved lives, stopped missiles, and still they weren't done. Save the suppose to be savior from Neo Umbrella, that was the plan now. Think on your feet Nivans, and don't forget this was the job, this was what he'd wanted. Chris and Piers side by side saving the world from global disaster. Save them from who and what exactly, no one knew anymore. Was it Simmons, Wesker, Ada, or Jake? Going home was out of the question, at least at this point. They were the only two soldiers in a mayhem of chaos that seemed only to grow exponentially the further along they were permitted to continue, and neither of them intended on quitting now, at least that's how it was suppose to be.

Chris seemed alleviated... almost relaxed, on the ride down, his broad chest rising and falling at a steady pace, rhythmic and placated, with a loose grip on the assault rifle that was standard issue, watching all the fish and coral rather than how his partner wouldn't stop his repetitive movements across the floor space around them. Pacing the tiny floor of an elevator ride that seemed more like an amusement park in the middle of Sea World, Piers didn't understand the rock steady ability his Captain had seemed to acquire over the last few hours, but he appreciated it greatly, letting Chris lend him the strength not to break down until the job was done. That was until silence was dissipated and the news was sprung on him, choking the air from his lungs in one fell swoop. Chris wanted to quit... Piers' fingers tightened around his trigger that for the last three years he had known closer than a lover, canting his head down and away trying to let the words sink in. Perfectly sculpted brows knit together in an unyielding silence as experienced, loaded words, filled empty air, Chris' deep voice explaining away all his hatred and his willingness to continue this war. It greeted his ear like a viper striking from the grass, hidden there all along just when he thought that he was safe. His hero was actually talking about retirement, even after remembering Edonia (were every man of heir team had died, leaving them alone together), fighting Ada (and making the right call after that exaggerated chase), and after this war (where they held this place together by the scraps of their teeth and clung viciously toward some remaining hope). After every single little tip of the scale here that China had lent to returning Christopher Redfield into the hero he truly was, he was turning his back. Muscles were straining, constricted, and his arms felt like iron rods with the will and want to send a shuddering blow into the metallic wall of this diabolically comedic moment. All he could remember was that last kiss in the alleyway. His captain had held him there, kept sanity away just for a little while so they could be together, but that's all they would ever be. They were a fling in the alleyway. Chris was finally whole again, finally the man he'd glorified again, and he was prepared to make Piers captain? He wasn't ready for that, he'd said as much, the words tumbling out with an uncertainty he couldn't hide from his captain, but seeing how his pointman ignored the shiver in his tone he could tell it was already lost. It was completely deflating. Here and now they were descending in a never ending slice through the watery subterranean and Chris was stealing the last of bits of sanity left to Piers and replacing them with doubts. Now was not the time to be doubting yourself, not when at the bottom of this tube were two people that had to be saved no matter what the consequence.

Hazel eyes flickered back and forth, attempting to read the words written in front of him, focusing out on the grid flooring of the elevator, and swallowing back the lump growing in his throat, remembering those last intimate moments together. There was a reason he hadn't looked Piers' in the face. He couldn't. After all of this, after everything was said and done, Piers and Chris would never be the go home together type. They were soldiers in the battlefield, he knew that, but... wasn't he allowed to want just a few more moments, a few more years together. No, because he knew even then when he kissed him that he was going to be leaving, he made this choice long ago, but now that they were so close to the end, he had to tell him. Even while they're lips were locked and his hands were over Chris' guiding him, it wasn't the same. They made love in that hotel room but they fucked in that alley way just like every other time. There was no two ways about it, this was a simple dispatch, and he'd allowed himself to get compromised by the one person who meant more than anything. Fury clenched in his chest, tightened the muscles in his throat; snapping his head to the side and daring a look at the stoic captain who refused in that instance to be dismayed by the conviction trapped in those eagle eyes, meeting briefly before Piers was too jarred and was forced to look away. He was getting tired of fighting this battle with the captain, and after playing the rank of captain in his place for six months he knew exactly how to speak his mind on the matter but that look Chris gave him, that gaze he'd given him long ago, back when they'd first became partners, back when they'd first met when Piers was just a rookie. It said with certainty, 'Trust me.' He wouldn't budge on it, Chris was going to make him lean over and take it, just like he had in that alley; because it didn't matter what was happening around them, Chris and Piers were made for these moments, not the ones that followed. Piers wasn't made for peace times... and it was evident now that Chris had no intentions of bringing him with him now when they finally could see the light at the end of this damnable campaign. They were partners, nothing more. Glassy eyed and hiding a grimace against his own stupidity, Piers nodded, silently taking it all in and orchestrating it in his mind's eye until he could once again man up and fight this battle for the team. No matter how Chris felt, no matter how painful it would be, he wouldn't leave his side now. Wither Chris meant it or not.

"You are my captain Chris. I don't want to lead men into battle I want to be at your side when you do. I didn't do all this and drag you back to this hell hole as a safety blanket, you are my captain. You always will be. This was a test to make sure we could still do this, that you can, and we've made it all this way. You can't back out now that we've finally made it this far. You can't leave... " Full pouted lips pursed as his voice dared the silence, fish and blue stretching on forever as it hit home that this was really the end. 'You can't leave _me_.' The kind of end he never saw coming echoed in his head, the rifle in his hands never felt heavier. Usually controlled features, hunting for an answer to the hurt that was threatening him, tightening the pads of his calloused fingers around the machine pistol and slipping his rifle back around to his back . He yearned to close the distance between them, drop the gun and hit Chris with a balled up fist that struck j'avos and B.O.W.s with equal malice. He wanted to knock the sense into him, but more over into himself. China was over. And so were they. He should have seen it coming, and he should have been prepared. Now he only had these few moments left to right himself and be the soldier he had always been. Emotions had no roll in this battle, Chris didn't need confessions or his fortitude, he needed his gun and his ability to follow orders. Needed him to help say Sherry and Jake. The war wasn't about them, it was about bioterrorism, and it was time they remembered that.

The captain just sort of hummed in disagreement, but left his partner to his mumbled banter for a brief few minutes more, rather than dispute with him against the real reasons he didn't intend on continuing this. He had to be cruel to be kind, but he was doing it in the best way he knew how. Yes they could continue fighting, but what he really wanted wasn't to be chased and haunted by these creatures for the rest of his life. He wanted to look back and remember a victory, not defeat. If he got out now, maybe he still had a fighting chance at not reverting into that person that his partner had had to drag half conscious out of a bar. He had gone through such a change over the last few weeks that it was almost disturbing to himself at the rate things were going. They'd started off as partners who would go to back for each other, and that was still the case, he never wanted to leave Piers, but Piers was married his job and Chris wanted nothing more than to get out of it before one of them died and he would be ruined forever. Moistening his drying, cracked lips, Chris could taste the sulfur, sweat, and blood on them, ignoring it with a smack of his lips, while cracking his neck. He was forty, what didn't ache was broken, and what wasn't broken was on the road to it if he continued down this path. Shifting weight from his one knee to the other, he flexed his massive thigh muscle, feeling the pang of arthritis that lingered there. He'd had that from his days in S.T.A.R.S. though, just another reminder that this life was a brutal one. A bulged bicep flexed as well, feeling another stretch of scar tissue where he had been stabbed only two years ago on a mission, and there were countless others as he fidgeted silently. But Chris had changed from steady and certain, to violent and vicious, and now had transformed into this person who seemed so somber and ready for whatever would come and take it in turn. Piers didn't understand what he'd done for him, but the longer the hazel eyed ace stayed by his side, the harder it would be someday when one of two things happened. Either Piers would die and Chris would be ruined, or the more logical option... Chris would die, and Piers would lose himself. His calm was necessary, make it easier on the kid to let him know that he trusted him to have his back, trusted him to take men like this into battle and come back alive. Piers was ready for that. He was ready for all of this even if he didn't know it yet, and he didn't know it because Chris had let them get lost in each other. "Piers there are reasons the B.S.A.A. don't allow fraternization between soldiers. There can be no happy ending. You are a great soldier, and a better leader than you could ever know. So long as I'm here you won't be able to see that, but trust me when I say it. You are ready for this. You're a soldier Nivans. The best one a guy could ever ask for as a partner. I don't regret that."

Words to fight back were trapped in Piers' throat and for once Chris was glad of it. As a rookie Piers had had an answer for everything, and Chris taught him fast how it worked, how this line of business was, and how they could count on each other. After only six months he'd made him his partner. Kid learned fast and he still had an answer for everything, just instead of fighting orders he gave them. He was so much like his captain in that way. But they were over ten years separate in age, and those ten years made all the difference. Maybe if they'd been closer in age then things might have gone differently, but Piers was young yet, it was time he made a name for himself, even if it meant walking away to let him find himself. A relationship between them may have formed during all those years spent together, and seeing Piers like this, his head cast down trying to force himself to accept what Chris was saying, it hurt badly enough he wanted to shove him back into the wall and kiss him again. Feel those partially agape lips and the passion that surged through him one more time like it did whenever he put hands on that olive hue skin. It was hero worship on both sides, and Chris had crossed the line. The one time fuck at some stupid memorial had turned into something that would never be forgotten, and watching the past like stitches being ripped out of Piers' side and leaving him warring to figure out what he'd done wrong was making it more evident. He should have done this long ago. Piers was like a drug, a wonderful drug that made him feel so damn high he could do anything, but one day when you are done flying, you crash. He made Chris feel real, special, one of a kind, and it made him feel strong. He hadn't felt strong since he lost Jill, then Wesker died, and then this kid came along and made it all worth while. He didn't want to leave him there, standing alone, but holding him was out of the question. Fucking him in that alley was a bad idea, kissing, making love in the hotel, that was so out of line. He was grooming this kid for success and in the process only brought him down. He loved Piers... maybe, but Piers evidently loved Chris, and that would only lead to one ending, heartbreak. If Chris broke it now, they would survive, he would miss those lingering touches that lit his skin on fire, or the bravado in those unflinching sniper's hazel oculars, but they would survive. One way or another it made discomfort a very close friend as they descended through the blue depths, the slowing of the elevator as the bright haunting blue waters disappeared behind mechanical doors. Whatever it was... what mattered was Agent Birkin and Jake Muller. They needed their help, and that was all that mattered. They had to put what was past behind them, and do their duty. "You'll be a great captain Piers. You've always been there... for everyone. Thank you for that." He let his great mitt of a palm rest on Piers' lean shoulders, watching as hazel eyes instantly flicked to the contact, regarding it carefully until a breath filled his lungs, and short nod both sad and approving came from his younger ace, putting his mind at rest while the clinking of gears and oil greased parts spun into action. The whir of the doors parting snapped them both from their shock and awe, Piers attention brought back that he was still a soldier and he wouldn't let this falter his step, and Chris, a means in an end. Out of their drama, and into the mode of mind that tweaked with the feeling of refreshed adrenaline. Both sets of muscled arms twitched and brought their guns to the ready, AR and MP-AF, cued for fire and prepared for a fight. Time to end all this.

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**Chris clearing his conscience a bit early I think... **


	12. Penultimate

Narrowly eluding a grim demise at the hands of the aquatic B.O.W., his breath was ragged from the strain of hefting the equipment he wore, as well as the long rifle he clutched with gloved hands. _All of this because of a snot-nosed spawn of a psycho_. Canting his head to the side, he emerged from the depths of the water a few long moments which felt like an eternity after Chris, sputtering briefly as he crawled miserably to his hands and knees. Feeling like a wet rodent, he scowled and climbed to his feet, a sidelong glance given to his captain who voiced brief concern before he nodded his head in acknowledgement and spoke: "Never better." _Fine and dandy, by golly_. Clutching his anti-material rifle as the strap felt heavier upon his sturdy shoulder, he soldiered on alongside his leader and exhaled an exaggerated breath. Without warning, seawater began spurting like an open vein into the underwater facility, and the area all around shuddered from the force as both men bolted in the opposite direction. It was impossible to completely outrun the flow of water as both were swept from their feet, just managing to slide through a large, pressurized door to safety. Piers tucked and slid as he was taught in the military, his captain a tad less graceful. As the two soldiers slid into the room, they attempted to gather their bearings amidst the situation, only to witness an enormous hand reaching it's way under, it had been right behind them all along. Elongated fingers which looked as if they consisted of rippling jelly gripped the strong, thick hanger door to pry it open with monstrous strength as the large head peeked in to emit an ear-piercing screech, a humanoid skull beneath the bio-mass of it's 'flesh' was visible, making it all the more haunting.

Grunting in effort as he scrambled to his feet, his bright gaze fixated upon the monstrosity as he managed to stand upright. Chris also managed to gain footing, although what happened next registered like lightning. Piers watched in horror as the mutant turned it's gaze upon his captain, knowing that in a matter of a split second it would reach to crush him like a ripe grape. He wouldn't allow that to happen, if this thing wanted Chris, it would first need to get through him. Yelling out, he sprinted as best he could towards Chris, who hadn't even managed to stand upright yet, and unceremoniously rammed his shoulder and arms into the hulk of a man, using his momentum to push Chris out of the way. Before he could react and face the creature, it's cold, mutated fingers coiled around his outstretched arm, lifting him off of his feet like a rag doll. Piers would be damned before going out without a fight, especially to a freaking squid. Angrily kicking his legs as he was yanked up into the air and grimaced as he felt the flesh in his shoulder joint tear, dislocating from the socket while he continued to defiantly kick his legs out. Somewhere behind him, he could hear the all-too familiar growl of his captain rising like feral bear before the rounds from an assault rifle punched their way into the creature's jelly flesh with automatic fire. Piers' free arm managed to clench his fist, just aching for a chance to take a swing at that gigantic jaw, that was before he heard most of the bones in his arm crunch within the large grip of the hand. Unable to free himself, he could only grimace further as his brows furrowed, shortly before the B.O.W. decided to fling him away, his body flailing through the air frantically like a discarded toy from a child.

Piers was flying, the world spinning in continuous circles making it impossible for him to focus on anything. Cruelly, his back hit the steel wall which had been in the direction he was tossed in, causing his head to snap backwards in whiplash before gravity jerked him down the sleek wall. As he plummeted downward, he suddenly felt the flesh of his already damaged right arm rip open. A jagged shard of steel debris jutting up from the floor gored the sensitive flesh of the joint barely connecting his shoulder to his torso. Unfortunately, shock didn't cover the pain, and he felt every second of it as his angular countenance contorted in agony, his eyes clenched shut while his pouted lips gaped open, baring his teeth. It was the worst pain he had ever known. Trapped in place by the steel embedded in his joint, he didn't have to look down to know that the shard had not only pierced his shoulder, it had torn through his flak jacket and flayed the flesh covering his ribs. He was crippled, and he knew the possibility of bleeding out right where he sat was inevitable. Chris fought on like a warrior, firing scattered shots into the large, aquatic mutant with no effect. As the creature briefly regarded the assaulting S.O.U. captain, the crooked teeth within it's rippling maw almost seemed to give a devilish grin as it outstretched it's gangly arm to grip a damaged generator. Lifting up the heavy piece of machinery, it pitched the generator in the direction of Chris Redfield while he was on the run, managing to fire off a shot which landed between the eyes of the beast, directly into it's humanoid craw, it's only response was that chilling grin. Piers' muscled legs curled inward from pain before they shakily stretched back out, his captain was in trouble, and there was jack shit he could do about it in his position.

Steel corners bounced and skipped across the floor of the room like a stone skipping across a lake, narrowly missing Chris as he pivoted his boot and darted to the side out of it's trajectory. Rather, the generator tumbled still in the direction it was slung, and Piers was unable to focus upon the projectile in his peripheral vision as his head moved from side to side. In a sadistic turn of events, the generator collided against the wall Piers was pinned against, and it crushed what was left of his arm. Blood gushed violently from his shoulder as his arm was nearly severed completely, save for a strip of flesh and tendon pathetically holding it together. Piers cried out in anguish whilst his attractive visage was the picture of pain, any other man of weaker will would most likely have been driven frenzied by the amount of pain which racked his body. Chris stared at the sight of his youthful, determined partner who he was certain was mortally wounded. Piers shuddered violently while his bare teeth gritted, his captain running towards him, and in that moment he knew the man he looked upon wasn't the drunk shell of a man he met in that bar in Edonia. Piers knew now, in satisfaction within the very core of his mind, that Chris Redfield was coming to try and save him. Just as that bit of light in the dark clouds of the situation shone, Chris was unaware of the massive creature that still turned it's attention to him. Swiping a stretched appendage which seemed to wobble, it wrapped it's elongated fingers around Chris' torso and hoisted him up into the air, pulling the captain closer to it's deranged face even as Chris began lifting his arm and pounding his gloved fist down upon the finger constricting around his torso. Piers looked on even as his gaze blurred from a mix of blood loss and pain. Shaking his head grimly, the realization came to him that he had one chance in this life to do the unthinkable, to save his captain. Piers never questioned his judgement no matter what happened only an hour before. With all that in mind there was only one final mission. Kill Haos, save Chris. Get him home so he could retire and live to be an old man, who could look back on today and remember that he had saved the world from disaster with honor and dignity. He wanted to be there with him, but to hell with all of that, when it came down to Chris, or Piers... the choice was simple.

Scowling in frustration, that sound became a growl of determination as he braced himself the best he could, staring forward as his chest pushed forward, hard, the flesh and tendon which held his arm to his body stretched thin before it ripped and tore away from his pectoral muscle, the momentum of his chest hurling forward and causing him to land face first into the watery floor. Blood pooled from the gristle of his exposed ribcage, along with the shredded flesh of the gash where his arm once was. _This is it, Nivans, there's no turning back now_. Struggling to move at first, he turned and placed his muscled left forearm upon the floor, his right knee twitching before planting the side of his boot down. Breathing raggedly, his blurry eyes looked upon his captain who fought like a caged gorilla in it's deathly grasp. Determination drove him on even as the water beneath him darkened with his own blood, and he crawled towards the syringe that lay still upon the floor ahead of him. Fading in and out of consciousness, his forearm slammed into the floor to get feeling back into his flesh, shoving forward with his boot, the red fluid in the syringe looked menacing, yet it was the only chance for survival. By the time he reached the syringe, his body was thoroughly exhausted, and every movement took strength he never knew he had. Snatching the syringe with his one arm, he allowed himself to flip onto his back, nearby the monster still holding his captain in the air, soon enough it would simply crush Chris within it's hand. Lying upon his back, Piers stared down at the syringe as he discerned what must be done, he lifted the syringe with his good arm and inhaled a shuddering breath. _For you, Chris_. With that, he drove the syringe into the exposed filament by his bloody ribcage. Crying out in pain, his teeth gritted once more as the red fluid of the enhanced strain of the C-Virus was injected directly into his body.

As the virus began assimilating his cellular structure, he sprawled back and outstretched his one arm and legs. Canting his head to the side, he nearly smiled at the fact that he once more overcame a challenge, accomplishing a personal mission he set out on. There was always the possibility that he waited too long, that he would bleed out and simply be a carrier of the virus as a corpse, but that concern changed once he suddenly began to feel physical strength returning. His heart pounded with new-found determination, the virus coursed through his body, and he turned to place his forearm upon the floor, rising to his knees, he slowly managed to push upwards and once more stand upon his own two feet. Hunching his one shoulder, he bent forward a bit while his knees bent, a few footfalls taken as he faced the sight of the B.O.W. which captured his captain. Piers felt his wounds begin to tremble, the exposed flesh felt as if it were crawling, a burning sensation beneath his skin as he clenched his left fist tightly. _Do it, you son of a bitch, I can take it_. From within his exposed right shoulder socket, gray flesh began to accumulate, throbbing as it began to create new, mutated flesh. Within the enhanced C-Virus contained the infamous G-Virus, created by expert geneticist William Birkin. Although unstable, the virus was known for mutating replacements for damaged tissue. Piers felt his skin crawl before a mass of gray flesh jutted from his shoulder socket, causing Piers' shoulder to spasm as the pulsating mutation had mixed the flesh with parts of bone from within his body, extending from within the gelatin consistency his new 'arm' was made of. Strangely, as the mutated arm extended, bio-electricity briefly circled part of the gray tissue. Flesh was stripped from the bottom of his right side from the top of his shoulder up along to his left temple, the open wounds bled as it trickled down his pretty countenance. There no longer was flesh around his right eye socket, and the eye itself was damaged, his iris remained, yet the pupil was as white as the outside of his bulging eye. There was no time to feel disgust for the spasm within the replacement arm of gray, thick mutated flesh and elongated bone. Hunter green ooze seeped along with his own blood, he stood as a B.O.W., the very thing he had spent his life trying to prevent and exterminate, now he was a gory creature, and he knew what must be done.

While the giant beast manhandled Chris with one hand, threatening to crush him, a flickering light of bio-electricity grew and surrounded the mutated Piers Nivans, who stood angrily with a look to kill, a hateful glare upon his bloodied face while he pointed his squid-like arm forward, a double helix of electricity surrounding the pulsating gray flesh. Numerous bolts of electricity streamed from the mutated arm and struck the menacing B.O.W. with a vengeance. Howling, it flailed before suddenly the hanger door which had been held up by the creature forced it's way down, in the process cutting down through the creature's midsection, bright red blood spattering against the door. Chris was released almost immediately from the grip of the creature as it reeled from the blast of electricity, it obviously had not expected such an assault. Despite the success of gathering the electricity to use as a weapon, it took a toll upon Piers, who himself emitted a cry of torment, nearly stumbling backwards. Chris fell to the floor upon his back, yet quickly recovered and gathered up his assault rifle, nearly unloading a clip into the chest cavity of the creature while he stepped backwards. Chris turned and sprinted to approach Piers, yet he gave pause immediately when he saw the state of things concerning his partner, who looked heavily damaged, a freakish appendage where his arm once was. Yet, there was no time for that, as the B.O.W. was still a threat to them both. While Piers recovered due to the virus repairing him with it's low-level healing factor, Chris drew away the attention of the creature as he tossed a flash bang from one of his utility pockets, a blinding light bursting just below he creature, yet it had little effect upon the creature itself, who shrieked at Chris as it began to pursue him. Chris had spent most of his life in the military, his skill for strategy was matched only by his dangerous temper. Ducking behind a large cargo box, Chris slapped a new clip into the assault rifle, diving to the side as the creature swiped it's long arm, it's fingers clawing at the corner of the box where Chris had stood, missing him narrowly.

Piers leaned his backside against one of the cargo boxes while looking down upon his mutated arm, the gray flesh giving a spasm each time, synched to his heartbeat. Rapid fire rang out from across the room as his captain battled the creature, yet he knew it would not be enough. He hadn't come this far only to come up short now. The end of this was written the moment Haos took Chris in it's hand and he had sealed fate with that syringe; it wasn't time to regret or hold back now. Stepping forward, he weaved between the boxes until he saw Chris hurling an incendiary grenade towards the creature, that which caused it's composition to stiffen and crystallize, battling like titan he was. Chris trained his assault rifle upon the frozen beast before the back of it exploded, the creature emerging once more, having regrown the tentacles that had been blown off due to Chris' firepower and battle prowess. Piers stepped out from the shadow of box into the clearing, yet the entity cleverly turned and climbed upon the nearest box, bombarding Chris with acidic discharge spat from it's ghastly maw. Try as it may, the captain was far too intelligent to stand in the line of fire, Piers looked on as Chris ducked and ran forth towards the box the creature stood upon, avoiding the acidic projectiles as he slid down upon his back, the momentum of him running causing him to slide forward until the soles of his boots hit the box. As he laid back, he lifted his pump-action assault shotgun, firing upwards and directly into the gelatin craw of the monstrosity, earning a few shrieks as it shambled backwards and off of the box, landing in clear view of Piers. Unlike the first charged blast, Piers lifted the gray arm with the bone spines and kept it propped up with his humanoid arm just as he would a rifle, the elbow of the mutated arm bent, he began to allow all of the pain to gather as electricity sparked and crackled around his arm in the double helix shape. Bracing himself with the heels of his boots, he snarled as the bio-electricity surrounded him like an aura of energy, he was in essence, a human battery.

Continuing to charge until the electricity touched and grazed the steel cargo boxes on either side of him, he brought his arm back for a moment before it was thrust forward, a barrage of electric teeth piercing the rippling frame of the B.O.W., causing tentacles to fry and limbs sent flying, significantly weakening the beast until it was immobilized. Chris seemed stunned by the sudden flow of energy from his partner, but never ceased fire. Piers was noticeably weakened, yet it wouldn't stop him from approaching the downed Haos, his exposed ribs had been blown out the back from the mutation. While the Haos was motionless, it's brightly colored heart exposed, Piers approached it lifting his mutated arm, preparing to drive his spines down into the organ, yet the beast still yet had fight left. Tentacles lifted as they meant to slam down upon the soldier and end his life once and for all, but not on Chris Redfield's watch. The captain hoisted up his shotgun and proved that he was the award-winning marksman, as each shot fired tore through a tentacle of the Haos before they had a chance to touch Piers. Tentacles fell all around him as the spines at the tip of his gray arm charged with electricity, and without hesitation, drove it deep within the demented heart of the Haos; tearing the organ open as the blood from the exposed heart splattered all over Piers' already felled clothing. Chris ran forward and caught Piers around the waist as he began to show spaghetti legs, holding him up even as the Haos shrunk down in defeat after a few howling shrieks. In a rush of adrenaline and in the tunnel vision of the war that had ensued neither soldier had truly had time to take in the devastation that they and the animal known as Haos had created, nor the ruin of what was left of their survivors. After a few moments, Chris held Piers up and supported him as they made way to the open door, and it was only then that Chris could truly appreciated what had happened.

* * *

**Hold your breath..**. **this was the second to last chapter. How can Chris ever say goodbye after that?  
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**Give me your requests, reviews, and praise as you see fit! i loves the love!**


	13. Fin

"Piers, come on! Just stay with me. You're gonna be okay." It was like the worst of tribulation. Chris standing in front of his partner, clutching him for dear life, shoulder, the only normal one left, and then the back of the neck, slowly caressing the goose-prickled flesh behind soothing the heaving chest and horror stricken features, bolstering some fortitude that Piers was bleeding every second that he was under the scrutinizing stare of his captain. The damage was unmeasurable. It was... unthinkable, and as he continued to examine, Piers full tiers, undamaged by the scoring of his once handsome features, trembled apart. The entire right half of his face was covered in deep gouges to that oozed blood and gore, and Chris could see the loss of color in his hazel eye even as he tried to avert them. Teeth grit as Piers stammered out the the bits and pieces of what he wanted to say, what he wanted to convey, jaw clenching at every wave of electricity and assault of the virus purging his system of humanity; the massive mutation of what was left of his arm pulsing beneath the effort used to speak.

"I'm sorry Captain. I did it... for the B.S.A.A. For the future."

"I know you did a real good thing." Chris was struggling, he had to tell it it was okay, that it was good, what he did. He understood it. They had to do something and with the slim to none chance of living through an injury as extensive as his own it was of course difficult. And Piers was having trouble speaking..., it was clear he couldn't find the right words, or was struggling with them in his own time because the longer Chris was starting to feel worse the longer they stood by. They had to get moving, had to if they wanted to survive.

"As long as you-

"I don't wanna hear it! We're both getting outta here... alright?" Gloved finger tips snapped from the back of Piers neck from reassuring to demanding; forcing attention from those wounded mismatched eyes that searched hopelessly toward the man who cut him off mid-sentence, knowing exactly what it was the sniper intended to say. Not now... not yet. He wasn't saying those words here in this dungeon, they were leaving and then he could say them every goddamn day for the rest of his life. They could say those words together, but not _here_. "Let's go."

"Jesus Piers... what did you do?" Chris grumbled like a grizzly bear as they frantically searched for an escape from within the watery labyrinth. This place was horror, one nightmare after another and though he'd known when he saw his partner alive something had changed, he hadn't had time between adrenaline and the urgency of dispatching the demon monster known as Haos, to really examine the full situation left before them. Before... him. Piers Nivans, the man who had gone through the deepest circles of hell for his captain, who had brought him back to himself, had been resigned to death. There was no survival for a man with those kinds of extensive injuries, his arm had been destroyed long before he hit the wall, but after it was crushed, watching the blood pour out of him, he knew then that he'd failed. Chris felt his heart in his chest freeze in place at the look on his partner's face, writhing against the wall in dire agony, pinned in place by a huge generator, and severed through the ribs and armpit but a jagged shard of metal. They were both going to die and Chris by suffocation, the fractures along his ribs licking his lungs on the inside and causing each breath to yawn a different kind of pain within his gut. But that was nothing to the kind of death he had expected for his partner. The partner that only an hour ago he had blatantly commanded that he was separating from, that they were no longer going to continue on this path together, that he had all but stabbed through the heart himself informing him of the fate that awaited them once they left this underwater prison. His heart was dying inside his chest cavity to see Piers. It couldn't have been worse if he put the bullet in his head himself. He had told him only an hour ago that he was leaving the B.S.A.A. and he wasn't taking Piers with him, that they were going to part and that was the end of things, despite that stubborn look mirrored on both their faces, but now? He would have done anything in the world that he could have to take it all back. He couldn't even look at the man for the first twelve minutes, which in all actuality felt like an eternity when you knew the person who promised and did follow you everywhere, save your soul and return it to you... was going to die. That you had killed him.

There was no question that Piers would die, as they stumbled along together it was getting more and more obvious that there was nothing at that could be done to stop the steady progression of afflictions that became one with the soldier. He was fighting it, he could hear the effort, the strain, but the longer they pushed through, the longer it took hold of that once perfect man. He wanted to pull him up in his arms, tell him how good he did, how proud he was that the kid managed through every obstacle that was thrown at them, and how goddamn brave he was. Chris could never have done that to save Piers, but the man attempting to keep pace behind him did whatever possible, however he could. Piers was a hero..., his lover, and he was going to suffer a death that no one should have to go through, one that Chris wanted to save him from. To tell him how sorry he was, how it wasn't what he'd wanted, that what he'd truly wanted was them. He just wanted something to go right. He wanted to take Piers back to the states, and go back to the days where it was just the two of them, working side by side in perfect tandem. Nothing ever went right for him and all the fight of captain Chris Redfield, that infamous anger and violence... was gone. He couldn't look at his partner without blaming himself. Everything was his fault, leading those men to their deaths, never listening when he was told of his own personal vendettas, dragging his partner through hell after they had already completed their missions only to rip out his heart and give it back to him to which the only valid response would have been 'fuck you' but rather he was greeted with honor, humility, and bravery. And kind of loyalty no man could ever hope to match to save some washed up captain of and organization he'd failed to uphold for the last three years. No he didn't deserve Piers, and Piers didn't deserve this.

The sound of footfalls, stumbled and worn thundered alongside his rapid heart beat, drowning out the crumbling facility around him. It was the fall he heard that caught his ears. The skip of a step, or the stutter of one as feet caught up on each other, and battered knees collided with the ground, followed by a palm, and the body of the man that had saved him, hit the ground with a forceful thud, arms thrown out in front of him. Chris turned on a dime, watching almost helplessly while Piers shuddered under each ragged breath, laboring to find his balance which was horribly offset by the viral mutation that pulsed and throbbed angrily with the attempt to control it. "Just go!"

"No! You're gonna be okay. We're almost there." The war around them of collapsing structures and the twisted tubes allowing torrents of liquid to spill down around them. Chris reached down, his immediate reaction to pull his partner away and topped, eyes wincing as his hand hovered over mutated flesh, the dominant virus overtaking and sudden concern taking hold of Chris. Could he touch him, could he even lift him off the ground? There was nothing left in Piers to keep going, no fight to continue on. He'd done his part, and Chris needed to do his. Chris shook his head, throwing away every worry about possible infection and slipped his hand around the barely conscious form in his arms, pulling him to his feet; ignoring all the whines of his own lungs. The added weight of the appendage was evident while hauling the body up from the ground, but the real gravity was that look. A look only Piers knew how to muster. Pain, sadness, all incorporated with sympathy. Like Piers had any right to be sympathetic of Chris in this situation with the water flooding in around them. Kicking aside concern, Chris' arm propped around him, avoiding letting gloved fingers slip inside the cavern of where his ribs once resided and ignoring the wetness of slick blood, or the tremble of the electric currant swimming over his bicep. So many doors between them and so little that he could say. What could he say? This man, like a reflection of his own self was becoming undone with every passing second and there was nothing to be done but mindlessly falter through the cavernous hideaways of this massive establishment. There were escape pods, somewhere, anywhere, there had to be some way of getting them out of here. He couldn't let this be the end of it, no matter how obvious it was. Piers moans of pain were becoming more frequent, more the twinges and muscle spams overtook him, no longer capable of holding himself up, and his knees were threatening to give. Chris was basically dragging him. This partnership couldn't end this way, not like this, with Chris alive yet again at the end of the story while losing the only person that he truly needed to save. The bulkheads rose, one after another and finally as the watery world before them seemed too much, a chasm of relief broke through. "Escape pods."

Pressurized doors parted way before the captain and his second-in-command as Chris relied upon his brute strength to keep the unsteady Piers upon his feet. _This isn't happening, not again. I can't lose_ _him_. It had been a living nightmare the day that Jill sacrificed herself for him, preventing his death at the hands of the Machiavellian Albert Wesker. Time had passed, and slowly he began to realize that anyone close to him would always be in danger. It had been why he had suggested his retirement in the first place, why he'd told Piers they shouldn't continue down the same road together. Everyone eventually got hurt. Finding Jill alive in Kijuju had been the last thing he expected, but when it came to Albert Wesker, expecting the unexpected was inevitable. Mumbling encouragement to the soldier at his side as Chris slowly eased Piers against the nearby wall, unable to imagine the pain that he felt when his ravaged right side slid down the wall, Piers sitting with his head hung low. Chris' ardent eyes and rugged countenance lifted to gaze upon the escape pods, and suddenly there was hope left. Turning to Piers, he descended to one muscled knee and looked upon the younger soldier even as a nearby disconnected pipe jutting out from the ceiling began blasting water, the captain spoke to him in an encouraging tone: "See that? We'll be out of here in no time."

Piers sat exhausted with most of his pretty-boy profile etched in blood and gore. All he could do was muster a nod that came off more pathetic than he would have preferred, yet it was enough to convince his endearing captain, who stood up and immediately went to the controls of the escape pod. Piers' lowered his angular jawbone once more. _What choice do I have? He'll never look at me the same again, and there's no cure for this. I wish I could tell you everything, Chris_. Shame filled his oculars as the gray flesh of his newly mutated right arm began to spasm and pulsate, turning his head solemnly to look upon the grotesque arm which the enhanced C-Virus cursed him with. Quickly turning his head, he swallowed dryly and held it together the best he could, he was on a mission with his captain, and he refused to break down in front of him. Piers had always maintained an iron will in the face of adversity, but this was different. Never had he felt quite as honored as he had when Chris Redfield had expressed interest in Piers taking his place as captain, however, the captain was unlike any other man he had ever met, and he refused to accept his beloved captain to go into retirement. Piers lifted his head to gaze upon the living legend, who worked tirelessly at the controls to activate the escape pod.

"Come on.. got it!" Narrowed eyes flickered back and forth as he gazed upon the keypad as well as the screen. Chris never was known for being a technological man, but he managed to educate himself just enough to get by. Nodding his head sternly in victory as the pod doors opened, he turned to stand before the man who had been the only consistent relationship he had known in years. Crouching down, he reached out with an impossibly muscular arm with veins pressing out beneath the flesh, offering his gloved left hand. "Here we go, Piers. We're getting out of here." There was no judgment in Chris' ardent gaze as he looked into the eyes of Piers, he gazed upon him as if nothing was wrong with him, and perhaps in this moment, that was exactly how Chris felt. Clasping hands with Piers, he pulled the soldier to his feet and kept an arm around his waist and pressed his burly hand against the small of Piers' back. They were going to get out, finally no matter what it cost them. Chris pulled Piers alongside him as they both approached the pristine, open doors of the escape pod. And as quickly as lightning trikes, he felt the effort course through his partner as he cleaved himself from those hands, fabric between their fingers rough and raw, but Chris felt it. He knew the strength it took to muster all that Piers had to pull away, but their hands remained locked, that single piece of fabric locked between their palms as Chris hurtled him back into his arms, massive arms encompassing the infected man, hand clutching his bicep crashing their lips together. If ever there was a definition for desperation, that was it. Lips crushed together, water falling all around them and all Chris could do was hold him there, every ounce of what was left of him holding the man who was inches from throwing his life away, from pitching himself backward out of his captain's arms. Piers lips were salty, from the sea water pouring in or from the tears that went unseen between them, but Chris wouldn't let him go. Couldn't let him go. Not after everything. He had seen the empty place on his arm, felt the rough fabric in his hand still pressed there as their fingers wove together, and knew the misery... He'd felt that same misery before. The pod's beeping rung in the back of his mind, the deluge coming in around them cutting what should have been a kiss he could have poured his soul into short; before Chris ripped Piers away and threw him inside clutching tight to the patch delivered in his hand, caring less about his collision with a back of metal that echoed as the doors closed and more about the fact that the pod was launching, hurtling into the watery oblivion with both of them inside...

"Captain..."

"It's okay Piers, its gonna be okay. You can make it alright? We're both going to make it. You and me. You know that... nothing's gonna stop us. It's going to be alright." Chris was starting to talk more to himself than to his partner, his words turning into a jumble as he started pacing, eyes falling on his partner who was steadily becoming worse, his entire body spasming before Chris threw himself down beside him, pulling him up into his lap even as the electric on his body surged and the captain felt his heart skip a beat from the shock, his blood thundering in his ears while holding his arms around Piers' lithe shoulders, brushing a hand under his cheek to force his face to look up at him, head lulled against his thigh. "Hey, stay with me Piers. Look at me okay? Keep your eyes on me." Hazel eyes, though damaged, blinked heavily, lids drooped half way and lips partly agape, hoarse mutterings never managing broken tiers. His irises and pupils were sluggishly searching up and passed Chris' gruff countenance, hand splayed against the side of his face. "Look at me Piers... come on... You can beat this."

"Captain... I'm.. I'm sor-

"Don't start that bullshit now soldier. You're going to be alright. We both are. I... I'm not going to lose you." Clutching the patch so inscribed North American B.S.A.A., the older man brushed his spread fingers over sweat and blood stained features, pushing the dirt and gore away from that face he had gotten so use to seeing. So use to acknowledging at his side. He wasn't done with him, not by a long shot. Had it really taken all of this, was all of this necessary to see it... to see how much Piers cared, how much he loved him. He wouldn't bow, and he wouldn't break, not a second had passed between them that Piers had allowed himself to give in during this mission... and he wouldn't, not until his dying breath. This couldn't be then. He hadn't told him, hadn't confessed everything he felt, everything he refused to feel because he didn't want his partner getting hurt for him but instead he was dying in his arms, paying the ultimate sacrifice. "Tough it out soldier..." Emptiness was hidden behind the once enchanting color of Piers' eyes, searching for a face he wasn't finding, and fighting for a cause he couldn't remember any more. He was shaking still, savagely pawing up Chris' bare bicep, hugging his fingers to him while the captain gave another shake trying to bring him to alert despite the blood pooling around them. They were almost at the top... almost at the top, he could make it, they could both still make it. _Tell him you love him, tell him he's going to be okay. That you won't let go of him no matter what. Tell him how there was nothing in the world worth fighting for more than this moment right here._ "I..."

"Chris. I'm sorry."

Eyelids drifted shut even as Chris started shaking the younger soldier violently, the body in his arms going completely lip apart fromm throbbing membranous tissue pulsing from the parts of the sniper where the virus had taken root, grey patches throbbing even as Chris started shaking , dragging him upright into his arms, hugging the body to him and pulling him back, smashing their lips together to be met with no reaction at all, no breath being forced from his lungs and to moan of pain as Chris tightened his grip, kissing those lips over and over. "Piers... no... no goddammit NO! Come on partner, wake up... please, Piers." He was breaking, everything inside him was breaking. The world shattered, along with the surface of the water while the pod bounded from the surface with a leap, sloshing. "Come on Piers, please, wake up. I love you, okay? I love you. Every damn day since the moment I laid eyes on you. Please open your eyes," gloved fingers held softer, marred features to his own, scruff rubbing against always smooth flesh. "Please... just... open your eyes." The seeming pulse of the greying flesh, and mutinous barbs embedded in that fake arm, replacing a once sturdy man was starting to slow as well, and Chris knew it instantly that there was nothing he could do. Even the virus had given in to the slowed heart rate, the lost breathing, the death that surrounded them, even as the helicopters circled in. "See... hey," Chris pulled his face away, slack neck grasped by weakening fingers of once proud pointman, head lulling back while he stroked his thumb over a warm profile, smiling despite himself. "See... they came. We're going to get you home Piers... I promise. I'm gonna take you home..."

Medics rushed to them, everything in a blur as they pulled the pod to safety from the high waves and the exploding facility beneath, the explosion and all its red boiling heat gone lot as Chris held his partner in his hands, brushing away the dirt, blood, sweat, that all had covered him over his times here, and tinge of blue starting to stain still beautiful pouted lips. It was Jill who came with them, her voice that cut through the many, shoving passed the spectators and emerging at his side, blue eyes scanning the body in his arms and then the man clutching him, smiling as he refused to tear his eyes away even as she started to prattle on. Everything was moving but them. A rush to salvage what was left of Alpha Team. Jill knelt beside Chris, slipping her arm around her once partner, and now best friend, the other sliding over the ruin of the flak jacket on the passed sniper, coming to rest on the side of his neck, kissing Chris' cheek before her eyes darted down to the body. "Chris... Chris? Hey, Chris..." The brunette never responded, a smile on his face that read placid, while Jill screamed mute words in his ears before a menagerie of men were pulling him back. Dragging his body away from Piers limp one, falling victim to a titan let loose as he roared and started throwing me, Jill's screaming as the men in white rushed toward them, dragging Piers away from the scene while words were screamed, a thousand and one hands holding him in place while the body of his partner was stolen from him. A fist tore free from those around him, burying in the flesh of the man beside him and snapping all ribs on his left side as he buried it again, throwing the man aside. Jill raised a weapon on him instantly; the dart fluttering through the air in slow motion while everything in the world moved in fast forward. And suddenly the high pitched buzzing in his ears stopped.

* * *

_Beeep... beep... beep... beep..._

Hospital. He knew a hospital when he heard one...

_Beeepp... beeep... beep...beep..._

Chris hated hospitals. Numbness overcame his body, detached at the neck from the remains of what was left of his anatomy, unable to feel anything. Cotton lived in his mouth, and gunk in the corners of his eyes which only saw white. His hearing was blotted out by that incessant beeping...

_Beep... beep... beeppppp... beeeppp..._

Fingers, cold fingers were gripping his wrists, sliding up and down his forearms, that he couldn't really feel... slim fingers, long nails caressing him to wakefulness. Even the world around him seemed foggy, but yet there were those fingers urging him to rouse, aching brown eyes bruised and sore... puffy or so it felt, blinked frantically to widen, pupils constricting as the overheads of the world around him came into the light, piercing his head into a well known friend. Migraines. And Jill. Her face was soft and kind but it set vomit hurtling through his throat, bubbling up at the corners of his mouth as he lurched over the side of white sheets and stained the whole lot with stomach acid and blood from the pits of his gut, retching again and again. Small hands patting his back. "Its alright Chris, its okay..." His bare chest was heaving, huge broad muscles convulsing with the need to breath on their own before tearing away an oxygen tube around his nose that made him feel like he was suffocating. White bandages covered his muscled waist, cuddling his fractured ribs, the sheet bunching further as he hefted his body away from the woman he had known as friend for twenty years. He wasn't delusional... he wasn't stupid. He knew why he was here... what had happened, what had been done to him. What had happened to the man in his arms. Piers had died there in that escape pod, his fingers clinging lifelessly to his arm which still burned with the ghost imagine of how they had worried his muscles to bruises hoping to hold on to that moment between them. He'd lost... They could say everything they wanted about saving the world, but when it came down to it, Chris had lost. He had turned his back on everything only to be given a second chance, a second chance with a person who stood by him every step of the way, saved him... and the price was Piers' life. Depression surged through his soul and Chris felt himself sag his weight back into the hospital bed, ill-fitted to his stature, blank mahogany eyes pinned to the woman staring back at him, chewing her lip.

"Don't sugar coat it Jill. Just tell me, how bad is it?"

Anxious features quickly became overwrought in his deadpan tone that muddled baritone in the emptiness of the room, little hands returning to his massive bulk, stroking reassuring pets with those petite instruments. Marine blue scavenged the machines beeping at her right, blinking stats beside his head like the number even mattered. He'd made it through Hell more than once and this time Purgatory was all that waited, a few machines couldn't tell Chris he'd already died inside, and they couldn't tell him how he'd continue on living just like he had always since the day Wesker turned his back on the world. She was searching, and his patience was growing thin, throwing back the sheet and ignoring her yelp at his purpling bruised frame, grabbing hold of the sheet once and wrapping it around his waist, holding it there until he found torn open fatigues and what remained of his old uniform. They must have torn it open when they were fixing him up, as though a living god of death needed a doctor. Jill was still stammering like an idiot. As though he'd never lost someone before... as though he'd never said good bye. He'd lost two full teams throughout this expedition, Edonia and China, and he hadn't stopped and wept a single tear for them, why did Piers deserve any different? Why did a young man foolish enough to infect himself have a greater right to have him cry? No, he wouldn't. And he couldn't not here. He needed air, and he needed it fast he needed-

"You were so out of it I was worried you weren't going to make it for a while. The medics on site said you were even fighting the sedatives I shot you with. I had to do it through Chris, you understand."

"I get it... just another one to bury, Jill." Thick rough hands grasped a pair of clean clothes that must have been supplied by his old partner, throwing the sheet aside with disregarded modesty, shoving his tree trunk thick calves and thighs deep within the wells of fabric, yanking them up around his waist. "He would have turned anyway if you didn't do it. The last thing we needed was for him to change into a..." Monster? No... Piers was never a monster. Cinching the waist of the pants around his hips, hiding the V of muscle and all the rest of his lower body, while his eyes went in search of the top, tugging buttons in place. Piers was perfect, not a monster. Even in death he'd been beautiful. So perfect in his arms as though he'd never really been alive at all. Just a doll in his arms, helpless and lifeless. "Doesn't matter... I need to get back to H.Q., get debriefed, I don't have time for this shit."

"Chris look," She was simpering behind him like a pet cat, his hand hitting the door while she finally spilled what was on her mind, though it hadn't been exactly what he'd thought. "Before all that... he's alive Chris."

"What?" Hell froze over instantly. "What? What, you mean... Leon right?"

"No Chris, Piers. He was... you were holding him so tight I swore he was dead, his lips were blue, I mean I never... and after everything you guys went through. It's just when I leaned to..., when I touched him, he had a pulse, it was thready bu-

"Where is he?" Chris could feel the welling emotion in his throat, the cool tears coating his eyes, threatening to spill over, she was kidding. She had to be kidding, he was dead, he was lifeless... in his arms. Those beautiful eyes were extinguished and he had never felt agony like that before in his life. He was some mutated creature now, with a bullet buried in his head by one Jill Valentine after seeing the state of his arm. "Don't lie to me Jill, where... how can he be... I don't care, I... Where is he? You didn't... his arm? Chest, he was infected Jill, beyond infected, he was changing and dead, and I was holding his body Jill I know dead when I feel it!" The room swirled beneath his feet, the cold floor on bare soles stumbling until he floundered into the counters and charts on his own condition, sweeping them off with a bulged forearm and throwing the world to shit. "WHERE?!" Two small hands found his side, stilling rage that hurtled forward and ruined the counter as his meaty fist came colliding down upon the table top, cracking it in half.

"They did some surgery. He got out a little while ago.. I came to get you, I thought... you'd want to see him."

* * *

Heavy glass, fire proof, clouded over, blurred sight from the hallway, mechanically opened as Jill's access card bleeped that annoying repetitive noise twice before admittance was granted, ritually moving aside for a single fall of bare feet crossing the threshold. "I'll wait outside." Jill's reassurance went unheard, curtain pulled before the bed and montage of monitors all humming an orchestrated beat, monotonous and sweet. Chris could see the end of the bed, the sheets drawn over, but that was it, swallowing his fear in one go and shaking his head. Man of action as ever, no reason to stop now. Throwing back the curtain in one swoop, brown eyes clenched shut and prepped himself to open them when looking down on a body so familiar to him that his heart stopped instantly, almost falling down to his knees or collapsing on the end of the bed. There was bandages everywhere. Covering every part of his damaged ruined body, his perfect body. Over his torso, waist, up around lithe shoulders that until he recalled were mangled with mutation. He'd never be able to live without it, his arm was everything, his job was everything... no Piers was everything. It was covered with an array of sheets and bandages, all newly applied but already fluids stained them, and the one that wound up around his neck to cover the better portion of that soft countenance he'd grown to love, eyes still closed the way he remembered them as he'd passed on in the pod. They were suspended in time, a captain, staring down at his single surviving soldier, his feet moving on automatic while coming closer to the bedside, a lopsided grin forming as tears unbidden fell to the ground, reaching out a lacerated, beaten up hand to touch olive hued skin.

And then it started. The laughter. Baritone laughter swept p form his bread basket into his lungs that ached and filled the room, falling to the ground in front of him and resting his hands on the plush bedside, heaving and feeling the world disappear, weight leaving them. Hysterics took over and he spent the next while on the ground, clutching the good arm that still remained uncovered, clean and natural in his hands, loving the warm flesh under his fingers while he laughed and cried at the same time. It took almost five minutes before he could lift his head back to that tanned face, evidently contrasted by all the white, and when he did, he met the gaze of heavy lidded hazel, staring down at him in a dreamlike state. Fingers wrapped around the solid forearm of his partner immediately slipped to his hand, winding his fingers with those that remained motionless on the bed side, hoisting himself off the ground. "Piers..." Chris' voice threatened to give, breaking while tawny amused brows pulled together, and a small subtle smirk tried to work at lifting the corners of one side of his mouth, and finally words attempted, though Chris cut him off. "I know, hey don't say anything okay? I told you, didn't I? We'd make it out... me and you. I just... I thought you died there partner, I really did. You wouldn't believe... I, there were so many things I wanted to say, so many things you need to hear. It's just, look about what I said in the elevator, about retiring... I didn't mean it. There's no way. Okay? I'm you're partner and I'm going to get you back into the field, me and you. I should never have said those things, I was just hiding. Running you know? Jesus I don't even know why..." A single small chuckle manifested between pouted lips, pursing slightly as Chris was observed, squeezing the captain's hand. "I swear to you Piers, I won't ever... Look I can't tell you how it felt to lose you... I'll never leave you again... You understand?" A tiny almost unnoticeable nod forced its way before it became a shake of the head, lid over that single hazel eye blinking several times before Chris dropped his head lower, their lips meeting and a soft tenor hum greeted his ears, the kind he imagined he'd never hear again, lips lingering together for some time before parting to breathe, all his aches disappearing with that single kiss, brushing this hand over those features, and caressing soft tissue of lips, watching hazel flutter back open from the effects Chris had over him. "I..I love you, Piers..." There was a short moment before the hand in his squeezed, lips parting ever so slightly while the brunette pulled back, tenor flooding his senses.

"I... Do I know you?"

* * *

**Fin. **

**I loved writing this story, and really appreciate the people who read and reviewed it. It was a real fun write! hope you guys don't hate me forever for the cliff hanger! **

**Hope you'll all let me know how you felt because I love the feedback! **

**Goodbye Do I Know You!**


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